Transformers 5: Faces of Darkness
by StoryMakerr014
Summary: When a powerful relic from Cybertron's ancient days is discovered, the relatively peaceful lives of Cade Yeager and his Autobot family are shattered once more. Various factions with evil agendas soon converge, taking the hunt around the world. While deep in space, a far more sinister force awaits, forcing Optimus to contend with his fears and rediscover his long forgotten past.
1. Chapter 1

**Betareader: **DevlinGrace

* * *

**Prologue**

_20,000 years before the Great War..._

The ship flew into the darkness of space with a great sense of urgency, its thrusters roaring like a primal beast heading towards its nest in haste.

"_I must hurry,_" the pilot thought.

His time was short. It wouldn't be long before the enemy fleet gathered and warped inside his homeworld's boundary; he must get there soon and warn his brethren of the incoming danger. At most, they could muster most of their defenses and activate the planet's guardians. They may be outnumbered and at a tactical disadvantage, but he knew several things about their opponents that could give them an edge in battle; they had a chance to repel this invasion.

The mech briefly cursed himself. If only he had been careful, this wouldn't happen. If only he had not been captured, the enemy would not have discovered their planet's location. It was his own fault that they learned it. And now, his race would be paying dearly for his mistakes. He should have listened to his subordinates and his brothers. He should not have journeyed across the stars seeking to learn their creator's origins and where he came from. His fascination with the mysterious and uncharted knowledge of the vast universe would cause his race's extinction, and now he regretted ever going on this lone expedition.

Shaking his head, he focused his attention on the steering console of his ship. It was no use dwelling on what had been done. The only important thing he had to do now was to make amends for his terrible mistake.

He gunned the engines, rocketing off into the distance in the general direction of his planet. It was fortunate that he had been able to commandeer this craft, small as it was for him - he barely fit inside the cockpit with little to no room to move. But at least it was light enough to be fast - he needed all the speed he could get. Besides, it's not as if he had the time to choose a better one. He was too focused on escaping that he had simply picked the first ship his optics had landed on.

Perhaps, it had been better that way too. He didn't trust those creatures nor their technology. They were different. Very different from the other species he had encountered in his millennia of exploring the universe. Their warriors were hideous; mechanical beings like his own race but monstrous in form. Not unlike the majestic mech-dragons of old, but more terrible and vicious. At least, that proud race had personalities of their own, primal and bestial as they were. But the warriors he had fought during his escape, they only had one thing in mind: destruction.

He still refused to believe that he shared some similarities with them. It's just not possible that his kind was related to those destroyers. They were not free; they only obey the orders of their vile masters and creators; they didn't have any signs of compassion and intelligence; they were just machines programmed in an advanced manner.

On the other hand, Cybertronians, his race, was different. They knew right from wrong. They have compassion and a sense of justice. They were free. Though some of them had been evil, and it still pained him that one of his brothers had a part in that, those who remained true to the right path never wavered. They upheld justice above all else. Most of all, they have their own sparks; their souls who let them have free will and gave them an identity. They may have been built in the same manner, but they were not created. They had been given life.

They were born.

He suddenly winced, and clutched his right side in pain. The wound he received was far more serious than he had imagined. His lower chest armor was smashed inwardly, restricting some of his vital components and almost crushing his spark chamber. Diagnostics told him that his energon tank was breached, the emerald liquid dwindling at a steady rate and seeping through his frame. In his current condition, he only had a few hours left at best before his systems started shutting down. Even if he turned off all unnecessary functions and retained just the ones needed to keep him moving, it won't do any good and his frame would still give in. The only thing he could do was to hurry in his journey.

Pushing away the worry and doubt from his processors, he grabbed the control stick and pushed his speed to maximum. In an instant, the engines roared once more as crimson flames flared brightly in the main thrusters, propelling the ship like a meteor. Gripping the controls in a tight grip, he piloted the spacecraft in silence. There was nothing but darkness ahead; since this part of the galaxy was near the edge, the stars and planets were farther apart to each other than normal, giving off the feeling of flying through an endless ocean of void. Occasionally, he would pass a lone planet orbiting a single star, and he would do a brief scan before moving on. He didn't want to take any chances if there were enemies waiting on the surface; the last thing he wanted was being caught off guard when he was not looking.

In the distance, an asteroid field slowly came into view. Narrowing his optics immediately, the mech slowed down his ship, carefully picking his way through the floating space rocks. He navigated through the chunks of former planets and moons, expertly maneuvering the controls with ease and avoiding the planetoids. His optics scanned the surroundings via the glass cockpit while checking the radar every now and then. The rocks ranged from the size of his ship to a battle carrier, and he had to be careful or else he would get into a collision. Plus, since the larger ones could hide any ship as small as his, the chance of a trap and ambush was very high; he had to be vigilant.

As the outer rim of the belt soon neared, he allowed himself to relax a little. Just beyond this was the quadrant where a sizable solar system resided and erected on a moon orbiting one of its planets was a small outpost they used as an early warning observatory. If he could just reach that, he can send a message to a nearby patrol and warn Cybertron of the approaching threat. He knew it was a long shot since this area of space was rarely visited by them, but he had few options left. He had little to no time remaining, and his injuries were starting to worsen. At the very least, he could fix himself up in the meantime while waiting for a response, probably even refuel his ship for another journey if the message didn't reach them. In any case, he was not in a fit state to proceed anymore, and he had to land soon.

Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans. Halfway through passing an unusually large rock, his ship's proximity sensors suddenly went off and all the warning sirens inside the cockpit began wailing like banshees. In an instant, his radar was filled with icons depicting several unidentified objects approaching from the right as if they had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Right then the mech knew he was correct: they were hiding out of sight behind several of the asteroids, waiting for him to lower his guard before attacking.

Cursing inwardly, the mech slammed the controls and veered to the left, increasing his speed. His ship twisted and turned through the flying rocks, weaving around and dodging cannon fire that immediately started as soon as the pursuers came into range. From the rear cameras, he could see at least half a dozen black space crafts with a spearhead design, streaking towards him at a fast pace and effortlessly avoiding the planetoids. They were not the only ones, and it was made apparent when another half dozen detached themselves from a group of asteroids to the left, creating what was unmistakably a pincer attack. They were obviously driving him to collide with a huge rock up ahead, knowing that his space was very limited for him to move and therefore avoid a collision. With all the debris flying around, he had little room to perform evasive maneuvers, and they were using that to their advantage.

As if to paraphrase his thoughts, a missile zoomed past him and struck a nearby asteroid, blasting it to smaller chunks of rocks that pelted the ship. Bracing himself as the cockpit shook violently, the mech managed to escape the line of fire and flew to the right, passing two asteroids that floated in front of him. However, he soon twisted to the left again as a barrage of missiles shot from behind, detonating mid-flight and creating a series of explosions that rocked the ship and threw him off course. As his vessel flew straight into a large asteroid, he quickly tried to regain control and pulled the steering control so hard it almost broke from his hands.

Despite this, it had saved him from a tragic fate. With his ship back on track, he immediately maneuvered and righted the vessel, heading for the asteroid belt's edge up ahead. The rocks here were no longer as grouped together as before, and he could afford to move a bit more freely now. From behind, his pursuers opened fire, their cannons roaring and blowing up asteroids and debris. This created makeshift projectiles that impacted on the hull of his ship, and his optics widened when the integrity level fell at an alarming rate. At this rate, they would be able to destroy his vessel even before he could escape this death trap.

His saving grace, fortunately, came when he finally exited the entirety of the belt. Freed at last and with unlimited room to maneuver, he pushed his speed up to its limit and blasted off into the distance. At this speed and with the asteroids hindering them, he doubted if his pursuers could still catch up with him. The solar system was within sight now, and he could lose them by hiding on one of the moons scattered throughout. Even if there's another ambush waiting for him, he could use the ship's defense systems now and repel them until he could land safely. Failing that, he could simply outpace them.

He checked his radar and was glad to see that there seemed to be no sign of his pursuers. No doubt they had already given up, knowing he had just entered a quadrant protected by his race. If they kept chasing him, they were bound to encounter a patrol and risk being discovered. He was certain they didn't want that, and he was relatively safe now. All he needed to do was-

The warning sirens suddenly screamed moments before his ship's engines exploded, throwing him off balance. To the left, a large sinister-looking cruiser with a sloping hull shimmered into existence like a hunter emerging from the darkness.

_A cloaking device! _He thought, his eyes widening in shock before another realization hit him; the ones who had pursued him a while ago were just decoys meant to lure him out, and this ship before him was the real predator sent to hunt him down.

A cold dread gripped his spark in an instant, and his ship spun as he finally lost control over it. Inside the cockpit, red warning lights started to flash as the computer announced the various deteriorating systems. Try as he might, he could no longer stop the vessel from careening towards a red planet with several orbiting moons. The engines were already gone, smoke billowing from the various holes as fuel leaked through them, a trail of fire forming a blazing tail like a red comet.

"No!"

He tried desperately to alter the ship's course as it entered the atmosphere, but another explosion shook the vessel and a thruster unit came off, shooting down towards the surface. A stabilizer wing followed next, detaching itself from the hull and spinning into the distance. Soon, the damaged vessel broke through the dark clouds, rapidly approaching the barren ground at a breakneck speed. The ship was already lost, and as it fell from the crimson sky like a streaking meteor, the mech realized he only had a few seconds left before he crashed down on the surface. With the inevitable drawing near, he deactivated all his vital functions as he plummeted to the ground and poured every remaining ounce of energy he had into one last message.

"**_Calling all Knights of Cybertron! The enemy has located our home! They are coming!_**"

And then the ship finally crashed with a series of fiery explosions. The last thing the mech saw through the cockpit before his vision faded was the looming form of a sleek black cruiser descending towards his position like a monstrous shadow.

In another part of the galaxy, seven warriors received the message from within their massive exploration vessel. Relaying the warning to their planet's leaders, the group changed the ship's original course before blasting off into the depths of space.

* * *

_10 years later..._

The command center was a hive of activity as mechs hurried to and from their designated positions, a mixture of urgency and desperation fueling their footsteps. Shouts and yells filled the enormous chamber; hundreds of soldiers and officers manning their respective consoles relaying reports to their superiors or conversing with someone on the comm channels. It was a chaotic mess inside, and the clamor was great enough to muffle the loud explosions increasing in numbers by the minute outside the building.

"Sector Gamma has fallen!"

"Sir, we've just lost control of our anti-air cannons!"

"Squadrons Two and Three has been wiped out!"

"Main enemy forces have just broken through the city gates!"

Standing beside a holo-map with his shoulders hunched, Nova Prime slammed his fists on the table in frustration, creating a deep dent on the metal surface. The last report meant that the entire vanguard was fully obliterated, and the only ones remaining were the Citadel Guards and what was left of the battalion he commanded - a full three thousand mechs in all, and certainly not sufficient enough to repel the invaders, much less drive off the aliens from their planet. Even with the help of the various automated defense turrets ringing the fortress, those could only do so much against their enemies before great numbers overwhelm their position.

"Where are squadrons Six, Seven and Eight?" he looked at an officer.

"Fighting near sector Epsilon-3," the mech turned to him and shook his head in despair. "But they won't last long. The enemy forces are too many."

Nova Prime bowed his head, closing his optics and feeling the cold fingers of dread slowly caressing his spark. Three squadrons near the gates, then another three plus the Citadel Guards guarding the fortress. They wouldn't be enough to hold off the assault, and as much as he wanted to keep their outside troops fighting to hinder the enemy, it wouldn't matter in the end; they were going to lose.

"Tell them to abandon their posts and head straight for the fortress gate," he ordered before glancing at the map where several grids and icons in different colors were displayed: blue for the ally-controlled zone, red for enemy, green for civilian districts, orange for the military, and purple for government sectors. Usually, the area would be filled with a myriad of colors to reflect the statuses of each sector. But now, red dominated the surroundings like blood and was gradually replacing the blue zones starting from the city gates, spreading inwards like fire and slowly creeping towards the sole purple-colored zone in the middle - the Citadel of Iacon. Every minute or so, a square would blink in warning before being fully engulfed by crimson a second later, indicating it has been lost to the enemy. It was a testament to how ferocious their opponents were, and how powerless they were to halt their advance.

How could this have happened? Their race was supposed to be the most superior of all beings in this part of the galaxy. No one could match their military might, and their technology was ahead by leaps and bounds compared to the primitive ones other civilizations had; even the psionic-capable lifeforms they had accepted trade agreements with were behind them by thousands of years. They were prosperous and powerful, but everything was turned upside-down when the Empire came. The fleet they had always boasted as capable of conquering entire systems in a month were reduced to scrap metals in just a week and their once mighty armies who had once waged war against the Fallen and his accursed Decepticons were decimated within moments. And now ten years after this one-sided slaughter began, Cybertron and its people were finally going to meet their end after eons of unchallenged supremacy.

He shook his head. No, it was not the end yet; their enemies had not killed everyone in this war, and there were thousands of prisoners of war sighted being loaded on carriers or herded into internment camps. Even if he and his mechs lost this battle, there were still others who could one day continue the crusade and reclaim their planet. It was a desperate and naive hope to wish for a brighter future, but it was still hope. Besides, as long as the Well of AllSpark and its core were safe, they could replenish their population in a few decades. They were not done yet - not by a long shot.

"Nova! Nova!"

Everyone heard the loud voice even before the speaker arrived, its tone powerful but grave and urgent like all of the mechs in the room. On the far left side of the chamber, an ornate and intricately crafted door burst opened with a resounding crash, catching the attention of Nova Prime and everyone else inside. Four mechs strode into the massive chamber immediately, white capes flowing behind them, with each one carrying a silver lance as tall as the wielder. Though the mechs looked worn out and weary, and their armors battered and scratched in many places, it didn't make them look any less majestic and honorable than they were when not in combat. Their strides and footsteps carried a certain grace and dignity that no other save the Thirteen and the Great Seven could match, and their movements were both measured and powerful. From each of their shoulders were branded an insignia of seven swords arranged in a circle - a sigil that anyone could recognize in an instant.

Knights' Apprentices, students of the seven Great Knights of Cybertron, Appointed Guardians of the Well of AllSpark. It was said that when the Knights were ordered by Prima to explore the universe along with their Master, the Seven took it upon themselves to train fourteen warriors to act as temporary guards for the AllSpark, as well as to become their successors should they fall in battle. These fourteen were granted immense power and knowledge, trained in every manner of combat and tactics known to date. They were rumored to be capable of single-handedly slaying a mech-dragon, and one story even stated that when the Fallen had staged his rebellion, the Apprentices had managed to hold his forces long enough for the remaining Twelve to arrive. After the war was fought, the fourteen were tasked to guard the entrance of the Well in Simfur with the absence of their masters. From then on, they were rarely called to battle unless it concerned the AllSpark, preferring to uphold their vows and stand guard all millennia.

Until this war happened.

Nova Prime frowned as they approached. They were supposed to stand guard at the entrance to the Well and keep it safe from the invaders, but why were they here? And more importantly, there should be fourteen of them, not just four. What happened to the rest of the Apprentices?

"Evac!" Nova quickly strode forward to meet their leader. "What are you doing here? You were supposed to stand guard at Simfur! And why are there only four-"

He immediately stopped as soon as he saw their faces. From the way their shoulders slumped wearily, to how their gazes were cast downwards towards the floor in despair, there was no doubt about what happened.

"Everyone's dead, Nova," an azure mech stepped towards him and leaned in exhaustion on his lance. Evac, the leader of the Apprentices, was usually a mech of unparalleled calmness and strong faith. No situation had ever broken his resolve, not even during the War of the Primes. But after seeing him utter those words filled with despair and hopelessness, Nova Prime was suddenly hit with a dreadful realization.

They had lost.

Cries of shock and dismay rang throughout the chamber, and what energy was still left in Nova Prime's legs instantly vanished, the white-armored mech collapsing on a nearby chair. Burying his head in both hands, he silently mourned both for Evac's knights and of the others who had died. The news had quickly cemented his doubts and fears about this war; if the Knights' Apprentices, warriors who were almost at par with the Thirteen Primes and the Seven Knights, had been defeated that easily, then any hope he may had for his people's survival was all for naught. They were already doomed from the very beginning.

"What... what happened?" the Prime croaked, unable to find the strength to fully project his voice on the vocal processors.

"Ten of our brethren were killed at the entrance to the Well," one of the apprentices replied sadly.

"We were outnumbered a hundred to one," another one spoke. "And we were the only ones who survived."

The fourth nodded. "We came here as fast as we could before they overran us."

"And the AllSpark?" Nova whispered.

"Safe," an apprentice said. "We have detached it from the core and buried it deep within the temple."

And then the mech became more serious. "But you know what the consequences will be. Cybertron will be plunged into darkness without it and no sparklings will be born."

The Prime nodded weakly. It was a failsafe the rest of them had devised should their planet fell into foreign occupancy. And though they all knew the risk of doing that, it was a better alternative than letting the AllSpark land into enemy hands. At least, they could retrieve it when the time was right.

"We have no choice," Nova finally lowered his hands to his knees and stared at the floor in contemplation. "If they get hold of the AllSpark, they will undoubtedly taint it with their perversions. We cannot let that happen."

"But all is not yet lost!" Evac said desperately and glanced around at his companions, searching for the barest hint of hope in their faces. "We could still win this war! If we ask for help from the Council, we could drive off the colonizers out of Cybertron. Surely, they won't ignore-"

"The Galactic Council has refused to lend us aid, Evac," Nova Prime trembled and looked up at his friend in frustration. "They have decided not to meddle in our affairs," he shook his head. "We will not receive a fleet from Alpha Chaos to help us."

The news seemed to deal a huge blow to the knight leader's remaining morale, and his shoulders finally sagged in defeat and despair. The last vestige of his strength left his arms in an instant, his massive lance clattering down to the floor with a loud clang, a magnified sound that echoed around the deathly silent command chamber. Everyone understood the situation they were in now, and they were frustrated that no one could do anything to prevent the inevitable. What's more, the allies that should have aided them in their darkest hour had seemingly abandoned them to their fate, crushing any hope they had for salvation. It would have been different if the last Four Primes were here to lead them once again, but they had already vanished from society after the war with the Fallen and the disappearance of the Great Knights and their master. And now that Cybertron was facing the end of its freedom, and quite possibly its entire existence...

"What can we do?" Evac's voice trembled, speaking for the rest of the mechs inside the room.

For his part, Nova Prime had no answer. At least, not a single one where it could save them from their current predicament. However, while he didn't know what they can do, he knew what they had to do - what they must do - in order to ensure that someone, someday and somehow, would reclaim the legacy they had lost today.

The Prime then rose to his full height, towering over most of his brethren save for the Apprentices themselves. His white-and-black armor gleamed against the light cast by the crystals dotting the walls of the chamber, and his bright blue optics swept briefly across the room before returning to Evac's grieving form. Raising both of his arms slowly, he placed his hands on the knight leader's hunched shoulders in comfort, prompting the azure mech to look up at him in sadness.

"I don't know what we can do," Nova said softly as he met his gaze, "but I know what _you _must do."

"Nova?" Evac stared at his friend in confusion.

Bracing himself for his next words, Nova Prime's grip on the knight's shoulders tightened.

"This will be my final order and request to you," he began with a sad smile. "Both as a Prime... and a friend."

Evac's optics widened, and he opened his mouth to voice his protest. However, the expression Nova Prime was giving him robbed him of the words he was about to say. He knew that look; it was that of someone who had resigned to his fate - the look of someone who had come to accept that his end was near.

"You must survive, my friend," Nova held him with his gaze. "You and the remaining apprentices. You are the only hope we have left, and the four of you must find a way to reclaim our planet and avenge our fallen people."

"But..." the knight murmured.

"Seek the aid of Alpha Trion and the last Primes," he nodded at another ornate door in the far corner, this one more lavishly decorated and carved with intricate and strange designs. "That door leads to a hall beneath the Citadel. There, you will find an entrance to a corridor that connects directly to the Chamber of Vector Sigma."

That earned him a small gasp of surprise from the azure knight. It was widely known throughout Cybertron that only a selected few had the knowledge of the Chamber's location. Only the Thirteen, the Seven, and whoever Prime was the current leader knew its whereabouts. It was a well-kept secret, even amongst the higher echelons of Cybertronian government. But the fact that Nova Prime was revealing it to Evac...

"And you?" the knight couldn't help but ask despite already knowing the answer. After ten thousand years of being his comrade-in-arms and best friend, it was hard not to know what Nova was going to say next. They had been through many tough situations and battles, even before he had ascended to the rank of Knight and Nova as a Prime, and they already knew each other's train of thoughts.

"I am a Prime, Evac," for the briefest of moments, Nova's optics flashed brightly. "There's only one thing I can do."

Then he stepped back and looked around at the gathered mechs staring at him in anticipation. "Attention to all Cybertronians!" he began with a booming voice, projecting his message to all comm channels and frequencies. "This is Nova Prime speaking. In just a few minutes, our enemies will be upon the Citadel of Iacon! All squadrons including those inside the command center, proceed to the gates immediately," then his optics glowed. "If this is to be our end, then we will make our final stand inside Cybertron's greatest citadel and let our enemies know the might of Primus' children!"

He raised a fist into the air, and as one, the mechs rose to their feet with a great sound and saluted fist-to-chest. There was no cheer or any warcries, only the expressions of a thousand warriors accepting their fate with defiance in their optics, determination flowing from their sparks. If they were to fall here, then they might as well die with honor and glory as befitting of a Cybertronian.

Nova Prime lowered his hand and looked at Evac with a sad smile. "Now, you four must go."

The azure knight bowed his head, a trace of grief and shame briefly crossing his face before he steadied his resolve. He knew they had no choice; of all the mechs in their army, only the Apprentices had the chance to continue the fight. They had to survive then. Survive to see the independence of Cybertron in the future, whenever that day may come. It pained his spark to leave his comrades to their deaths, but he understood Nova Prime and his decision.

Evac slowly bent down to pick up his lance before standing straight up, stepping back to join his fellow knights in a line and thumping their weapons on the metal floor in respect and honor, placing their hands in the center of their chest - their sparks. They stood rigidly yet with the same grace and majesty as before, and their faces were set in a noble expression.

"As you command, Nova Prime," their powerful voices rang across the vast chamber.

Nova Prime couldn't help but smile at their discipline. He didn't see them protest or challenge his order, and they didn't grieve in front of him like others would. Instead, they accepted his fate with their head held high, promising to uphold their vow and remain alive for the sake of Cybertron. They were indeed knights, and he was proud to have fought beside them even if it's just for a short time, especially his best friend, Evac. And no matter what happened, he wouldn't forget him and the others even unto his death.

"Farewell, Knights of Cybertron," Nova Prime mirrored their salute. "May Primus guide you in your quest for freedom and justice."

"Until all are one."

And together with the sparks of the remaining Cybertronians, Evac echoed the Prime's farewell and their race's prayer and warcry.

"_Until all are one._"

**XxFoDxX**

The corridor was empty and devoid of any life. Long and vast, it was one of the most ancient tunnels in Cybertron, formed through eons of continental shiftings and tectonic upheavals back when the planet was still another organic world. Now, terraformed to become a land of metal and machines, the subterranean caverns of this world had changed drastically. Dirt and soil were now metal and steel, and the sound of gears and cogs turning dominated the depths of Cybertron. Stalactites and stalagmites became pillars of iron, supporting massive chambers that were once filled with limestones and granites. Underground rivers turned into pools of lava and oil, and minerals and sedimentary rocks became part of the inner workings of the planet, merging with the metal that comprised it.

As such, the corridor was entirely covered in metal, and what once was an earth tunnel had turned more solid. Of course, crystals still dotted the area, acting as sources of light. No one dared to mine them anymore, lest it threatened the stability of the shaft. Despite being made of steel, Cybertron was still pretty much a living world, prone to quakes caused by its shifting gears. Therefore, one still had to be careful whenever a shaking occurred. Although the hallway was relatively safe from danger, being supported by gigantic pillars piercing the ceiling, it was still risky to move inside. Ancient and old beyond measure, lack of maintenance from being so deep underground had weakened its foundations, and cracks could be seen lining the walls and floor, and with all the explosions and bombings above the surface, its stability was being tested to the limit.

Still, if one were to traverse its entire length like the four Cybertronians were doing now, they would probably ignore the danger and gaze in marvel and awe at the sight offered to them. For unlike other hallways, this one had a unique feature; it was painted and carved with many things.

From the ceilings to the walls and floor, even the pillars, a myriad of colors grouped into strange designs and images, encompassing almost every part of the tunnel. It was as if walking through another different world entirely, the pictures and carvings very life-like, painted and sculpted with passion and purpose like no artisans could. Not even the greatest crafters of Cybertron could create such things, the beauty otherworldly and almost beyond comprehension. The light cast by the crystals added even more grandeur to the artworks, and the splendor was seemingly unmatched by any known works throughout the galaxy. It was as if a god had personally come down from on high just to create these majestic crafts, his hands working tirelessly to mold it into perfection. And when the god was finished, he used his powers to preserve his works for eternity, unable to be touched and tainted by time and dirt, forever looking as if they were just made yesterday.

The hall was seemingly sacred because of this, and it looked more like a temple than an underground tunnel. If one were even to look closely, they would realize that the paintings and carvings depicted certain scenes and figures, brought to life in the form of art. They ran from one end of the long corridor to the other, interspersed with various strange glowing glyphs, intersecting with each other in a continuous scene at different points in time, like a history of events recorded through this medium. In fact, if one were to do a thorough inspection, they would notice that the paintings were indeed telling a story.

The first was that of a swirling vortex, vast and unfathomable in depth, surrounded by the darkness of the void. Chaotic in nature, it swirled and twisted for eons until a radiant light shone forth from within, and a being of great power emerged. In his right hand was a mighty sword forged from a great star, engulfed in white-hot flames, while the other held a key to a vast source of knowledge and wisdom. His armor radiated with dazzling brightness, shrouding him in a great light and hiding his face, mysterious and enigmatic. And to his back stood a great doorway to an unknown realm, crafted in gold and platinum, with a single ornate lock in the center. The warrior stood protectively over it, his massive sword planted firmly in front of him, guarding the entrance with vigilance and unshakable resolve.

The second was another image of the Light Warrior. But this time, it was different; instead of standing tall and proud with dignity and honor, the champion was kneeling as if in great pain and agony, clutching his chest in misery while long tendrils of darkness coiled around him, snaking their way into his core. The light that surrounded him was dim, as if a great shadow was cast over him, and his form was beginning to twist and change, with his fingers showing signs of growing claws from their tips. At his back, spikes began to form to what looks like the start of sprouting wings.

The third showed an orb of light, luminous and bright, a pure white sphere of righteousness, but with veins of darkness on its surface like malicious fingers grasping an immaculate pearl. They were like cracks on a glass, oozing vile shadows and creating a cloud of black smoke. From within the center of the light, a sphere of darkness throbbed like a heartbeat, and the white orb bubbled and twisted as it reacted, almost as if desperately trying to expel the corruption from its core. And then the black orb tore itself away and emerged from its host, freed at last from confinement.

The next image on the wall was that of a monstrous being, dark and terrible, with a hideous and terrifying visage. Shadows clung to it like a cloak, and crimson malevolent eyes pierced the veil of darkness surrounding it. Massive horns jutted from its demonic head, jagged and serrated while giant bat-like wings that seemed to stretch forever spread out from behind. Its hands had fingers tipped with razor sharp claws that oozed venom and misery, and grasped tightly between them was a wicked scythe like a reaper of souls, coated in black flames, emanating death and destruction. The dark being's form was that of an evil dragon in flight, looming like a nightmare, with powers beyond imagination but terrible to behold.

The fifth illustration was a depiction of the two warriors crossings blades. Light and darkness swirled around the twins, clashing with each other and twisting to form a symbol of balance between good and evil. At their feet were remnants of whole galaxies and solar systems, obliterated from their titanic clash throughout the cosmos, while looming in the background was an image of a gigantic planet, its metal surface glinting in the sun. Black and white flames danced around the titans as their auras repelled each other like two opposing magnets. But it was also this that seemingly attracted them toward each other, their strength equally matched. And from there, the battle continued in an endless cycle of destruction.

The second to last image was a rapid departure from the others; instead of death and destruction being the foremost theme, the painting depicted the opposite - life and creation. On the barren metallic world, the beginnings of a new race came into being and was breathed life upon; thirteen towering humanoids, magnificent in form and carrying powers beyond comprehension, stood atop a lone hill. From their right hands were a collection of weapons and devices unique to each individual, with purpose both strange and terrifying, while their left held an orb of pure light containing unfathomable knowledge and powers. Each of the beings held a unique design and feature, though no one could not mistake them for siblings. They stood tall and proud, carrying themselves with dignity and honor, with powerful gazes piercing the horizon. And at their backs, a mysterious cube made of metal hovered like a guardian with the image of the Light Warrior superimposed over it like a specter.

Then came the final painting, and it was a sight to behold. Divided into two parts, the scene depicted a great battle and the rise of a mighty empire.

The uppermost half showed a hellish wasteland, burning and decaying, with black infernos reaching high into the sky like malevolent demonic hands. Fires and lava pooled on the metal surface, and plumes of black smoke swirled and twisted to form grotesque images. From the behind the clouds, a winged shadow loomed, its evil red eyes glowing in the darkness. With scythe in hand, the being spread its wings and rained terror upon the world, showering despair and hopelessness to anyone within reach. However, Thirteen Warriors of Light stood amidst the desolation like a protective wall, raising their weapons in defiance against the evil before them and creating a bubble of radiant light that broke through the surrounding darkness. With a massive sword that glowed like a star, their mighty leader led the charge and faced the Champion of Darkness head on, his brethren rallying behind him. And so the Thirteen fought bravely, battling the great evil until victory was achieved.

The bottom half depicted the aftermath of the war. With their foe defeated, the Thirteen began to repair the damages brought forth by the bringer of chaos and set out on their own paths to lead the advancement of their race, signified by an illustration of the Thirteen facing in different directions; some went to become forgers of weapons and artifacts for their race, others chose the path of scholars and researchers to unravel the mystery of the universe, a few became leaders and warriors to lead and defend their fledgeling empire, while at least one took the path of an explorer to map out the cosmos and seek other lifeforms and civilizations to defend. And all the while, a towering spire of purple crystal rose from behind, a remnant of their victory against evil and a testament to the power of Light. Thus, with the defeat of a great darkness, the dawn of an era of peace and prosperity came and the planet grew into a powerful empire that stood as a beacon of hope and the embodiment of justice throughout the cosmos.

However, fate was indeed cruel. Just like all things in the universe, everything had an end - and the planet was no exception. The next paintings were a series of tribulations and hardships for the empire, with several wars and conflicts engulfing the civilization. Factions and groups formed to opposed each other and fought like barbarians, catastrophic desolations and cataclysms rocked the world and consumed entire cities, and disputes over resources turned into full-fledged wars. It was a dark time for the planet, but no one could escape the sufferings that were yet to arrive. Until at last, the scene ended with the whole world burning and a fleet of space crafts entering its atmosphere. From there, the wall was a blank slate, devoid of anything else save for a clean and smooth metallic surface, almost as if the artist had left it untouched for another work.

That or the scenes had yet to pass or had not been envisioned. For unlike other works of art, the paintings along the entirety of the corridor itself were actual events that had, still were, and yet to come; visions of the past, the present, and the future, recorded through this method for all to see and behold. They were made as both a warning and a tribute, meant to preserve history and keep it alive. The artist had foreseen and experienced these events personally, and he had immortalized them through works of art so that the past may be remembered while keeping a vigilant watch for the future.

Sadly, if only he knew that the events unfolding above the surface were part of the future he had seen in his visions, Alpha Trion would have taken precautionary measures to increase their chance of survival.

"Hurry! There's not much time left!" the tall red mech urged to his three companions behind him, gripping his staff tightly in his right hand and using it to keep his balance. The explosions were getting more frequent now, and it was all they could do to remain standing. Furthermore, though they were far below the ground, the fact that the shakings were stronger meant that the invaders were using cannons meant for planetary barrages, shelling the surface of Cybertron without mercy. And as they neared a large door on the far side of the corridor, another series of loud explosions shook the hallway, disrupting the usual calmness and serenity of the sacred tunnel.

The Chronicler placed a hand on the wall to his left while planting his staff on the floor to steady himself and waited for the shaking to stop, briefly narrowing his optics at the minuscule cracks that appeared before shaking his head and turning away. It was useless to dwell on such trivial matters since the outcome of this war was all but certain. Right now, he was more concerned about ensuring that the colonizers wouldn't get their hands on their most guarded treasures, knowing the consequences should that come to pass. And so he focused his attention on the path in front of them, leading his brethren once more as the tremors subsided.

Alpha Trion suddenly stopped as the footsteps that should have been accompanying him became silent. Clenching his staff, he stood still for a moment and waited for them to resume. But when nothing came and the eruptions of cannon fire still continued, he finally glanced behind him to see his comrades staring at the ceiling with a concerned look. The mechs gazed forlornly above them, their bright blue optics boring holes through the supporting beams, fists clenched.

"We should have stayed up there to fight..." one of them murmured. He was a tall mech bearing the stance of a proud warrior, with a stern but kind face and an air of someone who would uphold his ideals until the end. His armor was as old as time, and his optics hid a wisdom accumulated through millennia of existence. Protecting his shoulders were large angled pouldrons while a glowing circle adorned his chest.

Vector Prime was not someone who would run easily, much less abandon his friends to their fate. He was always the quickest to respond whenever someone was in danger, using his powers over time and space to help those in need. Wise beyond measure, the Master of Time and Space was the voice of reason among the Thirteen, and the second leader next to their eldest brother, Prima. Unlike others like Alpha Trion who were content in simply watching from the sidelines, Vector was an active participant in the progress of their race. As such, the fact that they had to disappear after the war with The Fallen left a gaping hole in his spark, and it was made worse when the invaders came ten years ago.

"We can't change their fate, Vector," Alpha Trion shook his head sadly. "It was already sealed when the enemy discovered our planet's location."

"Then why do we still fight, if all of the things we've accomplished are for naught?" the mech beside Vector Prime rumbled, clenching one of his fists while waving the other in frustration. As if responding to his emotions, flames began to dance at his feet, rising a few inches before being doused by a sudden drop in the temperature.

Of all the thirteen Primes, Alchemist was usually the most even-tempered and emotionally balanced. The mech would often be the mediator for warring factions in their civilization, and during the War of the Primes, he was among the two who voted to give their wayward brother a chance to redeem himself. He could be as passionate as the fires that writhed on his left hand, and as cool and composed as the frost that coated his left. These traits were the reason he was the perfect individual to pursue scientific knowledge and the mysteries of nature, as well as an overseer of the realms beyond the boundaries of physical sense. However, much like his favored elements, his emotions could become just as dangerous and out of control, especially when it comes to the safety of his kin. And with Cybertron facing absolute defeat, it was only a matter of time before the Master of Elements disregarded logic and reasoning to save his people.

"Because of hope," the femme behind Alchemist stepped forward. "As long as hope remains, there is still a chance for a brighter future."

"A future that we shall help them achieve," Alpha Trion nodded at his sister. Out of the thirteen of them, Solus Prime was the kindest and most understanding, loved by her brothers. She was smart, and her admiration for creating many things led her to become their forger of weapons and other artifacts. Furthermore, her sense of justice was on par with Prima himself. However, it was also because of this that her temper was known to be unstable; when someone was wronged, Solus would always explode in fury and punish the offender in a brutal manner, much to her brother's chagrin. Often, the offender was more injured than the one offended, and Prima would chastise the femme for her harsh actions. As such, when Cybertron came under sieged, she was the first one to voice her concerns on the matter.

The ancient Prime looked at her more closely. Despite all this, Solus was actually more reserved and contemplative than she was thousands of years ago. Alpha Trion could only guess why. His sister had shared a unique relationship with their wayward brother even before he became twisted and corrupted. He was the closest to Solus, and she would always let her test out her newest inventions. The two were inseparable, joined together by a bond stronger than friendship. But when the War of the Primes erupted, Solus was heartbroken when The Fallen tried to kill her in a fit of rage for refusing to give him her latest creation. And from then on, the Forger had vowed to keep her emotions more in check, choosing to suppress them whenever they threaten to overwhelm her.

Alpha Trion turned away, pushing away memories of the past in the furthest recesses of his spark. It was no use dwelling on them at their present situation, and they still had many things to do. "Now, let us continue," he said. "We have wasted too much time already."

The four Primes resumed their walk in utter silence, stopping occasionally to let the shockwaves from the orbital cannon barrages pass. The tremors were much frequent now than before, and the trio behind Alpha Trion grew more concerned as they delved deeper into the depths of Cybertron. There were also the low rumblings that began ever since they had traversed halfway through the corridor, a constant shaking of the ground which never stopped and was gradually increasing in intensity. It was as if the planet itself was reacting violently to the defilement and ceaseless bombings it was experiencing, and the tremors were its way of responding to its injuries, healing them by shifting the gears and cogs that comprised its inner workings.

"We are almost there," Alpha trion murmured softly, his metal staff making a light thumping noise as it met the floor in a rhythmic pattern. Up ahead, two gigantic sealed doors loomed to greet them, golden and magnificent like doorways to a sacred chamber or an altar. They reached high into the ceiling, dwarfing the already towering Primes as if they were mere children. From their surfaces were painted images of the Thirteen, with Prima taking up the center, and their corresponding names in Ancient Cybertronian hanging above their heads, glowing like stars. Behind them stood an entity radiating light, spreading its arms in a welcoming gesture - Primus, or at least, Alpha Trion's rendition of the Warrior of Light. No one knew his exact appearance, and the only thing he could remember after his birth was a passing mental glimpse of his true form before it faded completely.

The four Primes stopped and stood in front of the great doors, gazing in silence and nostalgia at the images. Memories of the past flooded their core, days of old where everything was still peaceful and calm. Ancient times when the Thirteen were still united and lived in harmony. It seemed only yesterday that they were standing together as one against a terrible darkness, but those days hundreds of thousands of years ago were now long gone, and the present was all that was left.

Alpha Trion swept his optics across the surface. Four of the Cybertronian glyphs brightened as if reacting to their presence, but it was the others that held their sorrowful gaze; eight of them were dark, dim and lifeless just like their very sparks - Prima, Onyx, Amalgamous, Guardian, Quintus, Micronus, Nexus, and lastly, their thirteenth brother. Once, their names would have shone as bright as the four of them when they were still alive. But now, these eight were lackluster and dull, reflecting the loss of their lifeforce in the mortal plane. It pained their sparks to remember that they were truly the only ones left, especially when they saw once more the image of someone who had caused it.

From the sixth left of their ranks starting with Prima, standing opposite their youngest brother, was a Prime with the bearings of a mighty and vicious warrior. From his right hand was a double-tipped staff capable of taking away thousands of lives with a single thrust, while his left grasped a great ball of fire that burned hotter than a star. His visage was that of a fighter coated in flames, scorching anyone foolish enough to come near him. And much like his optics, the glyphs representing his name glowed an evil crimson, a testament of his corruption as well as a sign of his imprisonment in his own sarcophagus. Though they vowed never to utter his name forever, the four couldn't help but remember it in the deepest part of their sparks.

Megatronus, also known as The Fallen.

"We are all that remains..." Solus Prime murmured sadly, purposely skipping over the name and likeness of her former beloved brother and gazing at the rest with a mournful expression. Though she had done an excellent job of hiding it well, Alpha Trion knew that their sister still felt responsible for the tragic fates of their brethren. It was she who had always supported The Fallen, and was the one who offered to forge him a weapon of his own. But when the traitor made his bid for power and tried to keep the Matrix of Leadership for himself, only then did Solus realized how she had unwittingly set him on that path. And since then, the femme was burdened with guilt.

"And so it falls on us to continue the fight," Alpha Trion said as he raised his staff and pressed the tip in the center of the doorway, right where Prima's spark would have been. Immediately, the tip glowed and a faint light shot out, tracing the outlines of Prima's image until it shone with blinding radiance, before spreading outwards like fire. It traveled across the surface like serpents, tracing the curves and contours of the images, intensifying in brightness. And then, at last, the gigantic doors stood aglow with dazzling light like a thousand stars, and with a great rumble akin to an earthquake, it opened to reveal a massive chamber inside.

Alpha Trion stepped forward, and his siblings quickly followed. Their optics briefly scanned the interior, reminiscing about the olden days when they would gather here for important matters concerning Cybertron. The hall was even more grandiose and magnificent than the corridor they had just traversed, with more paintings decorating the walls. Thirteen pillars of pure Cybertanium arranged in a perfect circle supported the domed ceiling that reached high above them, and in front of these were statues of the Thirteen Primes, standing tall and proud atop a pedestal of silver, sculpted into perfection and crafted with extreme detail. They were almost life-like, gazing down upon them with power and overwhelming presence. However, while the statues were majestic and grand in their own right, the Primes' undivided attention was focused solely on the chamber's center.

There stood a circular pedestal, simple and ordinary in design, yet mystifying and ancient at the same time. Ancient Cybertronian glyphs ringed its surface, carved through unknown means, and standing in front was a single terminal with a large monitor, dormant and inactive. Connected to the them were multiple wires lying on the ground or hanging from the ceiling, their ends buried deep at various points in the chamber. It was like a supercomputer, sleek and sophisticated, though simple looking. And though it was easily the most impressive aside from the statues of the Thirteen, the thing on the pedestal itself was the one that stood out among the rest.

A great orb lay suspended in midair, tinged in blue and white, unbound by the very laws of physics. There were no wires or any cables present to support its massive size, simply floating in the air like a balloon, spinning in slow motion. Like a heartbeat, it pulsated with great intensity, and a yellow glow would occasionally run from one end of each wire to the other, traveling along its length in tandem with the pulse before disappearing into the walls and ceiling. The orb's components were neither solid nor liquid for it often changed its consistency, switching from a glass-like surface to a mercurial state in the blink of an eye. It was very much like a spark, except the orb was not encased in its own chamber but rather open and vulnerable to the world.

"What are you planning, Alpha Trion?" Vector asked the Chronicler curiously. He knew what the orb was, and he was hoping that whatever his brother was planning, it wouldn't endanger them all - for this orb was not a normal object, even by Cybertronian standards.

If the Allspark was Primus' essence and consciousness - his soul - contained in a physical form, and Cybertron was his body, it was only right that there was another object representing his mind and knowledge, and this orb was that: Vector Sigma, the great supercomputer managing all of the planet's systems and inner workings, down to the lowest levels. Its influence was so vast that the sentient A.I. could keep Cybertron running alone, albeit in a less active role than the Primes. Once, it was just an ordinary artificial mind created by those who terraformed this world, but when Primus merged with the core and sealed himself within the Allspark, Vector Sigma gained a mind of its own bound by loyalty to the one who gave birth to it and his descendants. And since then, the supercomputer would only answer a Prime and no one else.

Alpha Trion remained silent and simply approached the orb instead, his footfalls echoing around the massive chamber. He didn't bother answering Vector's question, knowing the protests that were likely to happen if he did. What he was about to do was a risky move considering their current predicament, but the consequences would be more terrible if he didn't go through with this; it was for the future of their race and their world as a whole. And with that thought in mind, he lifted his arms and staff and spoke in a powerful voice.

"Awake, Vector Sigma!"

At once, the orb responded. The entire chamber rumbled in answer like a long slumbering guardian heeding its master's call, stirring awake after millennia of dormancy. On the pedestal, the orb began to pulse rapidly in response, its colors shifting to every color of the spectrum in quick succession until a myriad of hues shone forth in a blinding light, forcing the Primes to shield their optics from the radiance. On the base, the yellow glow in the wires started to flow faster in tandem with the pulse, scattering into the floors and ceiling. Until at last, the brightness receded into a pure white glow and an azure beam shot out of the terminal, scanning Alpha Trion before vanishing. With another deep rumble, a face devoid of any features save for eyes and a mouth appeared from within the orb and spoke in a mechanical yet ancient voice.

"**I hear you, great one.**"

"The hour is at hand, Sigma," Alpha Trion lowered his hands and said in a grave tone. "The day that the Covenant foretold has finally arrived."

"**And what is it you wish for me to do?**" the being nodded and asked in a monotone voice.

Gripping his staff tightly, the aged Prime answered without a second thought. "Launch the Iacon Vaults into space. Safe out of our enemy's reach."

To his surprise, Solus and the others took his decision in stride, though they all wore looks of dejection and sadness. Alpha Trion didn't doubt that they knew the importance of doing this, and he was glad they had accepted it without protest. But despite this, it was obvious that Vector had some misgivings, evident by the concerned expression on the Master of Time.

"Are you sure about this, brother?" the silver mech stepped forward.

"Most of my greatest works are stored in there..." Solus sniffed.

"And if the Vault falls into their hands, there's no telling what they would do with them," Alpha Trion said simply. He didn't tell them the vision he had seen as well as the prophecy the Quill had written in the Covenant; about a great war on a distant blue world where the artifacts stored within the Vaults would help end it and usher Cybertron's new golden age as a result. It would just complicate things if he did, and his siblings might lose sight of the present situation if they learned about it.

"He is right, Solus," Alchemist agreed despite his own aching spark. "Even I wouldn't want them using our creations - especially that _one_."

The mech glanced at Solus, and the femme shared a meaningful look at her two siblings before turning away, all three of them sighing in agreement.

"Which is why this must be done," Alpha Trion nodded. "Sigma, initiate the launch sequence."

"**Vector Sigma acknowledges,**" the supercomputer said. "**Starting launch sequence now.**"

The orb glowed, and the computer terminal in front sprung to life as mechanisms within the chamber hummed in response. The sprawling Citadel of Iacon immediately came into focus on the monitor, direct live footage taken from a nearby security tower. But as the Primes beheld the mighty fortress that stood as Cybertron's pride and glory, they saw it was no longer the great citadel it had once been.

Broken towers lay crumbling across the field, and infrastructures were blown away in heaps of molten metal. To the left, the Chamber of Ancients that served as the sacred gathering hall for the Primes and Knights of Cybertron was now a pile of rubble, its once majestic dome scattered throughout the area. Meanwhile, the Central Government Building in the center was scorched beyond recognition; the result of ceaseless artillery bombardments and air raids. Beyond that spread the spaceport and the rest of the complex, demolished and reduced to piles of scrap metal.

It seemed that the only ones who had been spared were the massive Hall of Records to the left and the courtyard itself with the gates sealed shut. But even as they watched, the structure that housed Cybertron's entire history exploded in a firestorm, revealing the nose end of a sleek vessel underneath. Hidden partially by the rubble, the base rumbled as the engines activated, creating a thick cloud of smoke that spewed from the thrusters. Another explosion shook the camera and the screen momentarily brightened, the ship finally lifted off and increased in velocity until it was blasting off into space at great speed.

"**Launch completed,**" Vector Sigma confirmed before the screen went black and was filled with static.

The task finished, Alpha Trion nodded in silence and faced his siblings at last. Though his spark and body were already weary from all the events that happened, there's still one last thing he must do - an act that would ensure their race's survival and give them a chance to reclaim Cybertron from the invaders. Despite the fact that Vector and the others would certainly protest at his decision, he knew this must be done or else everything would be for nothing.

He stared at his siblings. They looked morally down, dejected and lost from losing everything they had spent their lives nurturing and protecting - from their beloved people and homeworld to their very creations. Alchemist's frosty and fire-coated hands lack the intensity they usually possessed, and Solus' shoulders sagged in grief. Meanwhile, Vector was a combination of frustration and shame, his armored hands balled into fists and trembling. Alpha Trion knew what they were going through at this moment, and he could understand the emotions they were experiencing, but he chose to ignore them instead and focused on the task at hand. They must not let their personal feelings get in the way of saving an entire race from damnation, even if it means sacrificing their own freedom and sense of individuality for several millennia.

"Go fetch the Apprentices," the aged mech ordered. "We will need them for what will happen next."

His brethren looked at each other in confusion. Shouldn't Alpha Trion finally tell them to reveal themselves and put a stop to the invader's advance? But apparently that was not the case. And as Vector opened his mouth to speak, the Chronicler simply shook his head.

"There's no time. I'll explain everything once they are here. Alchemist," he turned to the Master of Elements, "please fetch them."

For a moment, the Prime stood in silence, optic ridges furrowed in thought. He couldn't get a grasp on what his brother was planning despite spending many eons of studying the universe's mysteries with him, and no matter how infinite his intelligence may be, Alpha Trion's train of thought were always difficult to read. Still, he trusted him to do what was best, knowing that he was the best strategist among them. Besides, he was the only one who could read the Covenant and use the Quill; he may have had another one of his visions of the future, and it may have concerned their present situation.

"As you wish," Alchemist grunted in response.

And with that acknowledgment, the Prime turned around to exit the Chamber of Vector Sigma, leaving the rest of his siblings to stand in silence while the whole world burned above them.

* * *

The scene of carnage. The smell of death in the air. The feeling of the adrenaline rush of combat coursing through his system. These sensations were familiar to the mech standing before his warriors, having experienced them many times in his lifetime. And yet, they were nothing compared to the ones he was having now.

Nova Prime, a current leader of Cybertron and devoted follower of Primus, had been through a lot of wars and battles. He had been part of the assault on the Decepticon's stronghold on Gaea where The Fallen constructed the Sun Harvester, and personally experienced the corrupted Prime's terrible dark powers. Before that, he was also present during Prima's hunting of the great Predacons, witnessing the titanic clash between the First Child of Primus and the King of Predators. Furthermore, he had led his tribe when the Cybertronians splintered into thirteen factions, reuniting them once more when Alpha Trion briefly reappeared to appease the raging populace and quell any doubts about the supposed divinity of the Primes.

In all these conflicts, he had never been engulfed by dread and hopelessness. He was a warrior at heart, steadfast with an iron resolve. And even though the odds were against him, he was never someone to run away and hide cowering in fear; he would always be at the front, leading his mechs into battle and charging headfirst towards their foes with his weapon raised high into the air. After all, he was a Prime, and a Prime must never show any weakness to his people - not even when he himself was plagued with his own doubts and misgivings. It was because of these qualities that earned him his rank as leader of their race, and since then he had been the embodiment of bravery and unyielding resolve.

However, just seeing their enemies arrayed before them in the distance and above them, Nova Prime was suddenly introduced to the icy fingers of fear and the cold whispers of dread.

He had once been proud of their fleets and armies as capable of conquering entire solar systems in less than a month, but the invaders made it seem like their warriors were all but mere children playing mock battles; massive spaceships hovered on the atmosphere above the citadel, behemoths of war fashioned in the likeness of monsters and abominations. Their hulls - made from an unknown metal which shrugged off most of their attacks - were black as the void, seemingly sucking the light around the surroundings, and their sizes dwarfed even the largest of Cybertron's battlecruisers. Numerous cannons dotted their flanks, huge weapons capable of destroying entire provinces in just a few shots, while rows of missile batteries lay arrayed and aimed at the Citadel, ready to demolish the great fortress. They were truly terrifying, but their ground forces were much worse.

It was widely known that Cybertron was diverse in its races. Though they all shared the same uniqueness of being mechanical lifeforms but with sparks housing their essences, all of them differed from one another through their own respective designs and features. Most were bipedal bots which comprised a huge portion of the planet's population, but there were also others who slithered, rolled, and burrowed on the surface. Creations that walked on four limbs, or soared high into the sky with metallic wings. There were even some that could swim in lava, their hides powerful enough to withstand the scorching temperature. Mech-vultures, savage predators that preyed at dark, mech-dragons rivaling the Knights in strength and prowess. They all ranged in sizes - from something as small as a sparkling to as large as a battlecruiser. And these creations were magnificent to behold, a testament to Primus' power in shaping his children to his liking.

However, their enemies were similar yet vastly different at the same time. And the most terrifying aspect of all was their appearances; though they were mostly bipedal like Cybertronians, it was their forms that separated and distinguished them from the rest - they had the visages of monsters. From the towering assault walkers to the front line grunts and warriors, their forms were that of savage beasts. Fins and razor-sharp talons. Spikes and metal protrusions on their torsos. Gaping maws filled with rows of metal-shredding teeth. Those who walked on two legs had the forms of creatures on water, hunters of the depths. While those who crawled and lumbered behind were fashioned in the shapes of mighty behemoths with tusks and horns, burdened with a collection of cannons and missile launchers on their shoulders. Their very footsteps and roars shook the ground, and their smaller brethren's cries were like packs of hungry scavengers awaiting a great feast.

Nova had not seen such an army like this in his life, and the feeling of despair was beginning to wash over him. Their optics glowed with an evil crimson, and the way they looked in their direction with hunger sent chills in his spark. Just from seeing their enemies arrayed outside the destroyed gates, he already knew that they wouldn't survive the first minute of their final charge.

The Prime gripped his weapon tightly, savoring the feeling of its metal shaft one last time in his hands. The Primax Halberd, he called it. A giant battle-axe as long as a lance, forged from pure destronium with the blade edge coated in cybertanium. It could easily cleave an opponent in two with barely an effort, and it had been his friend and companion through all of his battles. And now that he was facing his last one, the mech would ensure that these invaders would feel the might of his favored weapon.

He glanced at his comrades - all the bots who had loyally served under him and fought together with him from the beginning of his reign. They were looking in his direction, not in fear and despair, but with fierce determination and defiance, awaiting his last order as a Prime. Three thousand brave warriors clutching their swords and shields without the barest hint of hopelessness in their optics; they had already accepted their inevitable fate, and now they would follow their leader until the end.

Nova managed a faint smile despite the situation and turned his attention back to the invaders. It was truly an honor to lead these bots into battle, and as a Prime, he could not wish for any other comrades to die with. He had no doubt that they would not survive the battle, but even if that was the case and this was their end, then they would make it such an end that their foes would forever remember it as the bloodiest battle they had fought throughout their entire accursed history.

He closed his optics for the briefest of moments, savoring the scent of Cybertron in the air and the feeling of the Citadel's sacred ground at his feet one last time. At last, his resolve was cemented, and whatever fears and doubts lingered in his spark were gone. Now, all that he needed to do was to give out the command and his warriors would answer his call.

He opened his optics at last, finally alighted with burning fierceness and overwhelming rage directed at his enemies, before thrusting his battle-axe overhead like he had always done in every battle.

"**FOR CYBERTRON!**"

And with that mighty roar came the sound of three thousand others echoing the warcry, followed by thunderous footsteps akin to an avalanche as the children of Primus made one last charge for freedom.

**XxFoDxX**

To say that his brothers and sister nearly exploded in rage at hearing the news would be an understatement for Alpha Trion.

It had not been long since Alchemist left that he came back with the Knights' Apprentices in tow behind him, having met them partway through the corridor. But when they entered the Chamber, Alpha Trion had immediately sensed something was amiss when he saw Alchemist's furious expression and the way flames licked his body while the fog at his feet swirled in a turbulent, as well as the drooped shoulders and bowed heads of the knights - which should have been fourteen instead of just four. Afterwards, it didn't take a long time for Evac to relay the grave news in a trembling voice, nearly dropping his lance as his hands shook.

As expected, the reactions of the Primes present almost shook the vast room to its foundations; Alchemist literally burst into flames before summoning a pillar of ice and smashed it in anger, Solus slammed the head of her Forge into the floor and leaned on it in grief, and Vector made his section of the floor decayed as his powers over time reacted violently. As for Alpha Trion, the aging Prime could only close his optics and grip his staff tightly, mourning in silence for the fallen knights. They were some of the bravest and strongest mechs he had known, and the most promising among their order aside from Evac himself. As such, the fact that they had fallen quite easily had just proven how powerful their enemies were.

"The AllSpark! What about the AllSpark? We cannot let them touch it!" Vector cried in rising panic. If the AllSpark falls into the hands of their enemies, it would certainly mean the extinction of their race.

"The Cube is safe, Vector," one of the knights reassured him. "We buried it deep in a temple that only a Prime can open."

That seemed to have dispelled some of the worries from Vector, though a large amount of fear and rage still lingered in his optics. It did calm him down somewhat, and his powers receded within himself. Despite this, he still looked concerned and glanced at his siblings, but chose to remain silent.

"What's the status outside?" Alpha Trion asked and started to pace. Much of his plans depended on whether or not this war was already a lost cause - and it was - but he needed to be certain. What he was about to do posed many risks, and he didn't want to condemn their race for millennia because of miscalculations that could have been avoided.

"All the city-states has been overrun, Alpha," Evac murmured. "Except Iacon. But even as I speak, Nova Prime and the remaining defenders are gathering outside the Citadel in one last stand."

"And I presume the Council has rejected all of our requests for aid?" the third Prime stopped in his tracks. At this, the knight leader's optics flared and he all but growled his answer.

"Yes."

Alpha Trion clenched his fist at this but nodded without a word. It was just as he had expected, and frankly, he couldn't blame them. Despite the possibly terrifying outcome that was to happen should Cybertron fall, it was still the responsibility of the Primes. None of this would have happened if they had just been careful enough, even though this event was inevitable and destined from the start. Still, the news brought by Evac and his knights had removed any misgivings he may have had about his plan, and now he had no doubt that it was the only way to save their people - not to mention the universe itself - from absolute destruction.

He turned around to face Vector Sigma once more. When he saw the way Vector, Solus and Alchemist were looking desperately at him, the Prime could only shake his head in sadness.

"We can't change their fate," Alpha Trion stared directly at their optics. "But we can save their future."

"How?" Evac despaired.

The Chronicler stood in silence for a moment, debating with himself on whether he should tell them about the plan or lie to them. However, it wouldn't do any good if he did. Trust was the foundation of their relationship as brothers and sister; if he tarnished that, it would fracture the Primes even more and prevent his next movements from being put into motion. He had to make them believe in his decision to enact this method and save their race from death.

"Sigma..." Alpha Trion finally turned away from the rest of them and faced the supercomputer. "Initiate the Memory Wipe protocol."

A chorus of shouts and protests instantly followed, amplified by the vast chamber and bouncing off its walls. It was to be expected, and the aged Prime couldn't rebuke them for their explosive reactions. Wiping the memories of even a single one of their race was a terrible sin for the Thirteen, as worse as harvesting the star of a planet teeming with life. It would mean taking away all the things that had shaped a Cybertronian's beliefs and ideals, leaving them a mere husk of their former selves. It was something the invaders could take advantage of, and one that Vector Prime and the others didn't want to happen.

"What are you doing, Alpha?!" the Master of Time shouted, his blue optics blazing with anger.

"Only what needs to be done," his brother answered without so much as a glance. "I'm going to wipe out every trace and memory of our existence and that of the Knights from their sparks and processors."

At his revelation, the room fell into an immediate silence.

"But why?" Solus asked in confusion. Why must her brother had to erase the memories of the Thirteen Primes and the Knights of Cybertron from every Cybertronian? It was wrong and a terrible injustice, especially now that their people were facing absolute slavery or worse. To remove those memories would be like taking away their hope, subjecting them to eternal misery and despair.

Fortunately, Alpha Trion quickly gave the answer.

"Because if they find out the location of the Matrix and that of Megatronus' Sarcophagus, they will use them both to revive him, and the entire universe will be plunged into darkness once more," he turned around and held them with his piercing gaze.

The silence that followed was more deafening than the first as the Primes and Apprentices realized the meaning of his words and the importance of initiating the protocol. Though it pained their sparks and conscience, they knew he was right - they had to wipe out the memories of every Cybertronian.

"You do realize there are still records of us? We will still be considered myths," Alchemist rumbled softly.

"And those records will be just that: records. Something that was written that can never be truly proven," Alpha Trion countered.

The Primes couldn't say anything more at this, and they fell silent once again. Despite their own misgivings, the implications should the locations of the Matrix and the Sarcophagus be discovered by their enemies was obvious. And it was not one they would want to happen. The result would be catastrophic, even worse than their current predicament. As such, it was imperative that they initiate the protocol as soon as possible.

"What about us?" Evac stepped forward to protest. "Our legacy can't end this way!"

"Which is why I called you and the remaining Apprentices, Evac," Alpha Trion swept his gaze at the knights. "The Age of the Primes is coming to an end as was foretold. With the Seven Knights and their leader no more, it falls into your hands to continue the legacy."

"I... don't understand," the mech shook his head in confusion.

Alpha Trion sighed. It saddened him to see the young mech in such a state, dejected and despairing at the loss of his comrades and homeworld. And though he would be placing a lot of burden on the warrior with his next words, there was no one else who could continue the legacy of the Knights except for Evac. The knight leader was the best candidate for this role, and he took the Oath willingly. Thus, he would have to fulfill his duty, however difficult it may seem.

"The memory wipe will affect everyone not part of the Thirteen or the Knights," he began. "As the leader of your order, it is your task to rebuild it once all of this is over. You must continue the legacy, Evac."

The intensity of his gaze bore down on the knight. But instead of flinching, the mech lowered his optics to the ground and murmured in a voice filled with uncertainty and doubt.

"Can I do it?"

"You can," the Prime's answer was swift and clear, overflowing with conviction and confidence. "You are the leader of the Knights' Apprentices, appointed Guardians of the AllSpark, chosen successors to the Great Knights of Cybertron. You have been personally selected by 'The Destroyer' himself as his official replacement should he fall in battle, and you of all people should know how he values strength and honor above all else."

Then he smiled. "I assure you, Evac. You are more than capable of leading the Knights."

For a moment, the knight leader was silent. His optics scanned the floor as if searching for answers, holding his lance in a tight grip. Indecision and fear clouded his face, and his shoulders trembled slightly. Until at last, he closed his optics and steadied himself. And when he opened them and looked up at Alpha Trion, they were filled with determination and resolve.

"I understand, Alpha Trion."

Satisfied with his answer, the Prime nodded and faced his siblings once more.

"Vector, Solus, Alchemist," he spoke in a clear voice. "It is time."

In order to initiate the protocol, Vector Sigma required the consent of all living Primes that were part of the Thirteen; most of the high-level directives in his programming influenced a large portion of Cybertron and its people, and they had certain effects that made them risky to activate, limiting their use to only the most direst of situations. As such, the Primes made it mandatory to always have a vote whenever they would utilize the supercomputer. And since only four of them remained, Alpha Trion had to gather the permissions of his three siblings.

There was a moment of hesitation, especially from Vector. Though they understood why this must be done, it still made their sparks ache knowing they were going to make all Cybertronians forget about their history, their ancestry, and most of all, Primus. They would vanish from the minds of everyone affected, being known only through legends and myths. The friends they had known for hundreds of thousands of years would no longer remember them, and the sacrifices of the deceased Primes would be forgotten. It was worse than death, and that fact alone made them think twice, even though it was for the sake of their own race.

"There's no other way," he said in a grave tone when Vector opened his mouth to speak.

He was right. And as it finally sunk in, the three Primes glanced at each other in dejection before Alchemist finally sighed and spoke in a clear voice.

"I, Alchemist Prime, Master of Elements, hereby grants Vector Sigma permission to initiate the Memory Wipe Protocol."

As soon as he had finished his command, the Prime looked at his sister expectantly. And with great sadness evident in her optics, Solus spoke next.

"I, Solus Prime, The Forger, hereby grants Vector Sigma permission to initiate the Memory Wipe Protocol."

She then glanced at Vector who, with a mournful expression and a heavy spark, stepped forward.

"I, Vector Prime, Master of Time and Space, hereby grants Vector Sigma permission to initiate the Memory Wipe Protocol."

The three of them finished, Alpha Trion thumped his staff on the floor and said in a powerful voice.

"And I, Alpha Trion, The Chronicler, hereby grants Vector Sigma permission to initiate the Memory Wipe Protocol."

At once, the chamber rumbled to life as Vector Sigma registered the command in his system, the mechanisms, and cogs within the planet stirring awake. A low hum began to emit from the walls and ceiling, increasing in intensity until it shook the very foundations of the room itself, and the orb glowed a radiant white in accordance with the sound, spinning faster and faster at the same time like a tornado. The core of Cybertron's mainframe responded to the directive, and as everyone stood in silence, a timer appeared on the monitor as the supercomputer confirmed the order.

"**Vector Sigma acknowledges. Initiating Memory Wipe Protocol. Starting in 300 seconds... 299... 298... 297...**"

As the countdown clock ticked lower, the Primes and Knights waited in anticipation.

**XxFoDxX**

Above the surface, Nova Prime still led the charge against the invaders. With another mighty roar, he put up a burst of speed, his legs carrying him towards the ever growing lines of their enemies. From behind him rallied his troops, shouting war cries and following his lead without question. They were hungry for revenge, and they wanted to destroy as many of these abominations as they could before dying in combat and joining the rest of their brethren in Primus' embrace. It was a sentiment that Nova shared, and as their leader, he wouldn't fail to uphold them. As such, his optics immediately narrowed on the apparent leader of the colonizers, towering above the rest like a giant. Nova would let him feel the blade of his ax and the power bestowed upon a Prime like him.

They grew closer, but the invaders simply stood and waited in a defensive line. They didn't fire a single shot from their gunships and cruisers hovering in the sky or from the siege walkers they had brought - only their ground forces were ready, their shields creating an unpenetrable barrier filled with bristling lances and spears meant to skewer the approaching horde. However, it was obvious that they hadn't learned anything from fighting their race for ten years; Cybertronian tenacity and toughness were well-known throughout the galaxy, and Nova Prime couldn't help but grin in anticipation despite the circumstances. That pitiful wall of shields wouldn't hold against a charging mass of Cybertronians, especially with a Prime like him in the lead.

Three hundred yards. They were close now, and his spark was starting to react from his emotions and bloodlust. His energon levels were rising now, charging his systems into overdrive. Clutched in his right hand, the Primax Halberd glowed with a fiery orange like a roaring inferno, responding to the wielder's cerebral patterns. It shone like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness, and everyone rallied behind to follow it.

Two hundred yards. They were almost there, and Nova Prime reckoned he could kill a hundred or two before finally succumbing to the overwhelming force. And even if he was the last mech standing, he would fight until the end to avenge his planet and his people.

One hundred yards... and then everything went dark.

As if a storm had formed within them, all Cybertronians stopped in their tracks in an instant and screamed as electricity danced across their frames, the energy originating from their sparks. Systems crashed and overloaded, and a few outright exploded from the overwhelming electrical discharge. Weapons were immediately dropped as the warriors lost their motor functions, sparks flying from their circuits and modules. It was pain beyond anything they had felt before, akin to being dismembered alive. And as they howled into the air, their processors and sparks began to erase all information about their history and the knowledge of how they were born and created. From all corners of the metal world, every Cybertronian felt this, the wind carrying their screams throughout the planet.

And then, like puppets cut off from their strings, every one of them finally collapsed on the ground, lifeless and unmoving.

**XxFoDxX**

"It is done."

The announcement rang clearly throughout the chamber, carrying with it a certain weight that pressed heavily on the sparks of all those present. From the pedestal, the orb that was Vector Sigma gradually lost its luster, slowly receding to a dull white glow. The energies required to activate the protocol had sapped the supercomputer of its reserves, prompting the sentient core to enter a state of dormancy and hibernation to recover. It would take at least a century before Vector Sigma could be utilized again, and Cybertron would have to rely on its backup systems to survive. In any case, with the AllSpark detached from the Well and the supercomputer in a deep slumber, the metal planet was practically reduced to a comatose state, no more than a gigantic world powered by machinery and factories rather than a living one capable of birthing new lives.

The silence that ensued seemed to have lasted for an eternity, and the hum that had accompanied the protocol's activation grew fainter until the mechanisms ground to a stop, a low whine dying down before going silent. Even the cables lost the glow they were once filled with, and the terminal in the center beeped as it shut down. For a moment, everyone was as still as statues, motionless. The action they had just done was still fresh in their mind, the shock and grief accompanying it rooted them on the spot. Each of them was mourning in his or her own way, staring at the floor with dimmed optics. They would forever bear this sin until death, and their sparks could never rest as long as they were alive seeing the results of their actions.

For his part, Alpha Trion knew that he will have to pay for this crime eventually as he was the one who had initiated this; he would definitely ask Primus for forgiveness when he finally joined him in the AllSpark. But at the moment, he still needed to do a lot of things, and dying was not part of his current plans.

"What happens now?" Vector broke the deep silence. Though he was still in a grieving state, they couldn't stay here forever. Time was of the essence, and every moment wasted would not help Cybertron regain its freedom.

Slowly, the Chronicler turned around to face them. He was dreading this moment from the beginning, and he didn't know if he could bear their expressions when he announced his decision. However, the thought of his people being left at the mercy of their conquerors was stronger than his hesitation, and he finally steeled himself for his next words. Though it would leave his brethren's sparks more broken they were now, it must be done. The future he had seen compelled him to formulate this plan, and he would see it through the very end. Cybertron's future depended on this; as such, he had to do this even though it would be against his siblings' feelings.

"Now, we part ways."

The resulting explosion of protests nearly overwhelmed him, but he weathered it and stood his ground with impassiveness. He couldn't tell them of the other vision he had seen; about a much bigger threat in the distant future and how their race would be pivotal in its defeat. Someone would rally the Cybertronians on a far away world, uniting them against a terrible darkness. It was not recorded on the Covenant because that was still far and uncertain. But it was for this reason that he had to ensure the first steps towards fulfilling that prophetic dream would be taken. Who knew what would happen if he didn't? The future often changes, and he feared that it might shift into a more terrible outcome if his vision didn't come to pass.

"What is it this time?" Solus demanded, fixing the mech with a heated glare.

Alpha Trion couldn't blame her. Most of the Thirteen were already gone, and the femme couldn't bear to lose any more of her remaining brothers. It would tear her spark apart, reducing her to a bitter individual hating the universe. But despite this, Solus was a strong femme and would not succumb to her feelings. She had to endure for the sake of their planet and people. And so he didn't answer her question directly but opted to say what they had to do instead.

"Vector, Solus, Alchemist," he began in a soft voice. "You three must leave this planet at once. Protect the Hammer and the Saber, for I have a feeling they will be needed in the future."

At this, the rest of the group glanced at each other in confusion and shock. What Alpha Trion was asking seemed out of his character. He was practically telling the three of them to abandon their own world and kin, something he would not ever do himself.

"I don't understand, Alpha. What do you mean we have to leave?" Alchemist shook his head.

With a sigh, Alpha Trion closed his optics and murmured as if in pain. "Cybertron's dark age is just starting, brother," the Prime clenched his fists. "But all of this must come to pass, and another darker one will begin just after this. However, a new leader will rise, bearing our legacy. And through him, he will save us all from a great evil and usher in a new golden age."

He didn't tell them how the war would be started by a mech who would bear the name of their own brother nor how it would culminate in the ejection of the AllSpark in space, dooming Cybertron to a lifeless state ravaged and consumed by death. It would just complicate things further if he did, and the three of them must not be subjected to any distractions while they were away.

"And you want us to survive so that we can help this 'leader' you are referring to," Vector concluded.

"Indeed," Alpha Trion nodded as he finally opened his optics and slowly approached the chamber's entrance. "You are the only one capable of manipulating space, Vector. You and the others can hide until the time is right for the three of you to return."

There were no more protests after that. They trusted his wisdom and understood what he wanted for them to do. Alpha Trion's ability to see the future had always been accurate and they knew better than to ignore it. He was the one who had led them since Prima's death, urging them to continue living when everything seemed hopeless. And since he was the eldest one, they would follow his lead just like they had done before.

"Do not fear, my brothers and sister," the mech reassured them while nearing the exit. "We will meet in the future."

"We know," Alchemist muttered behind him. "It's just... what about you?" the Prime gestured at him in concern. "Are you going to leave as well?"

Alpha Trion's reply was surprisingly quick and simple.

"No."

"No?" Vector glanced at Alchemist and Solus in confusion. If he was not going to leave, then...?

"No, I'm not going to leave," Alpha Trion repeated as he stopped in his tracks outside the chamber, gazing at the darkness of the corridor. He turned his head slowly, glancing at the Evac and the Apprentices, a silent conversation seemed to have passed between them in an instant, and the knight leader jolted into absolute attention before quickly leading his comrades to stand behind the aged mech. As they filled in the ranks, The Chronicler turned around to face his siblings one last time, and with a fierce determination, only a true Prime could muster, spoke in a hardened voice.

"Because I'm going to lead a _rebellion_."

And so with the Knights' Apprentices acting as his honor guards, Alpha Trion marched out of the corridor into the darkness beyond.

* * *

_**Starting boot -up sequence...**_

_**Initiating system startup...**_

_**Activating audio and visual sensors...**_

With a gasp, the mech's optics snapped open to reveal a metal surface. His face was pressed firmly on the smooth ground, as if he had collapsed on the spot and stayed there for quite some time. His limbs were bent in awkward angles, and everything in his frame hurt like a thousand hammers were pounding him. He could barely move, and only his optics seemed functional. And through them, he scanned his surroundings.

Where was he? He couldn't remember how he got here or why. He couldn't even recall his name, and that made his core - was that what it was called? - throb faster and faster. When he tried to think, something in his body seemed to be blocking him, a barrier from which he couldn't penetrate. It was like wanting something in the distance, but his arms couldn't reach it. He didn't know what happened to him, only that he was supposed to be doing something. But as to what it was, he couldn't remember.

He tried to stand up, groaning as his joints creaked. It hurt just to move his arms, and a sudden warning in his head sent him reeling in surprise. There was... what was that? There was something in his head! Then his vision flickered as strange symbols poured in front of him, hovering in the air like specters and prompting him to crash on the ground in panic. His hands moved to swat them away, but they merely phased between the symbols as if they were not there. However, the most terrifying of all was when he realized that his hands were made of metal.

The mech gave off a strangled cry from his vocal processors, and even that scared him to the extreme. What was he? Who was he? Why was his entire frame made of metal? Despite the information of various things suddenly flooding inside him, he couldn't identify just what he was supposed to be. It was as if he had been created without knowing his origins despite the fact that he was already filled with knowledge.

He looked around and realized that he was not alone. There were others like him sprawled on the ground in similar positions, slowly stirring awake and moving their arms and legs. One lay near him, a crimson bot with some sort of double-bladed weapon near him. He was shaking his head as if to clear his mind, and when he looked up, their optics - what were optics? - locked together.

The mech scrambled back in fear. He didn't know who this was. He didn't know these... mechs around him. Everything felt strange and alien to him; unfamiliar and unknown. He was terrified and confused. And when he retreated further, his arms bumped on a large battle ax lying just behind him.

A shadow suddenly loomed, tall and imposing. It was staring down at him with dark tinted visors, almost as if inspecting him and gloating at the same time. He towered above the rest, sleek and dark as the sky. And from behind were others like him, though many of them looked monstrous and horrifying to behold.

"Please, don't hurt me!" the mech whimpered, his voice quivering in fear.

For a moment, the being was silent. He stood still as if assessing the situation, his long fingers tapping his armored leg in contemplation. The mech on the ground had piqued his curiosity, as was the rest of them in the courtyard. And as if having made up his mind, the being raised his left hand and offered it in a genuine sign of help and peace.

"Do not be afraid, young one," he said kindly in a disembodied mechanical voice. "We're not here to hurt you."

The mech stared at the hand in front of him, tentatively touching it with his own. He didn't sense anything malicious with the being, and his gesture seemed sincere. And since he had no memories at all, he decided it would be best to accept his help.

"Thanks," he mumbled and stared curiously at the visor. "But please, tell me. Who are you?"

It might have been his imagination, but he thought he saw a ghost of an evil smile, almost a leer, stretched from behind the tinted glass. And as the being withdrew his hand, his voice rang clear throughout the vast expanse of the courtyard.

"We... are your _creators_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Important Author's Note: Before reading this chapter, going back to the previous one is HIGHLY recommended for better understanding.**

* * *

**Betareader: **DevlinGrace

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

The land was just as Cybertron had been during the war's final days - barren, desolate, and devoid of life. There was nothing for miles around, and the lack of discernible noises left a disquieting feeling in the air. Not even a single plant poked out of the ground, the scorching sun preventing the blossoming of life on the dried soil. It was worse than traversing a desert with the only sign of activity being the dust clouds that occasionally appeared to cover the landscape before being swept away by gusts of wind.

For Optimus Prime, this was no longer a strange sight. Thousands of years of never-ending conflicts and bloodshed had turned Cybertron from a once thriving planet to a wasteland ravaged by war, and cities that had stood unsurpassed for eons were reduced to barely a semblance of their former glory. Many times he had walked through the wide main streets of Kaon, gazing in sadness at the majestic buildings that were once testaments of their race's architectural knowledge. They were now a pile of broken towers and monuments, destroyed by hours of artillery bombardment from the Decepticons. As he stood in the middle of nowhere, the memories came to him like a flood, unstoppable and relentless in their path.

Desolation spares nothing, and it was one harsh truth that was quickly thrust upon him when Cybertron's civil war began. Not a single foundation was left untouched by the horrors of battle, and no civilians were spared from the ravages of death. As the Decepticon army conquered sector after sector, destruction followed them like a shadow. And when he ordered the ejection of the AllSpark into space, the planet became more desolate than it had already been.

He knelt down on the reddish soil on one knee, scooping up a handful of dirt and stared at the earth with a solemn expression. Even though he did it to thwart Megatron's malicious schemes for galactic conquest, it was still him that doomed Cybertron and his race to extinction. True, it had delivered many worlds and their inhabitants from subjugation. But in doing so, he had subjected his own to a slow inevitable death. There were times when he was plagued with nightmares of his ancestors cursing him for his actions, the faces of his deceased comrades joined in to condemn him as well. They shouted and screamed at him, the memories of their deaths would overwhelm him afterward, leaving his spark pulsing rapidly and his frame shuddering.

He tilted his hand and let the dirt fell back to the ground. Earth; it was the planet where he and his friends had discovered salvation and a second home, only for them to be stolen away again by the very same method that had plunged their world into civil strife - betrayal. The race he had come to cherish stabbed them in the back despite all their sacrifices, hunting down their own saviors and slaughtering them for raw materials. It was a cruel act, one that made him realized how honor and loyalty were nothing to most of them, meant to be discarded at the first opportunity. It had hurt him much more than Sentinel's treason did; at least, the Prime was his kin and he was responsible for mistrusting him. But the humans? He had willingly let Cybertron be destroyed just to save Earth. And they had repaid that by handing him to a bounty hunter in exchange for a bomb that would let them create their own versions of his race.

And yet, for all theirs sins, he couldn't bring himself to hate them nor the planet he had considered as his second home. Be angry at their crimes, maybe. But he could never truly hate them enough to wish for mankind's extinction itself. Though his race and theirs were worlds apart, there was something about them that compelled him to defend the species, to protect the people, especially the younger ones who had so much to learn. And just as the man who pulled him from the brink of captivity and death had told him, he needed to have faith not in who they were but who they could be in the future.

He stood up and gazed longingly at the night sky. It seemed only yesterday that he had heard those words, and he had cherished it since then. They had rejuvenated his spark full of bitterness and regret, restoring his compassion, however slightly, for the small species. And now, a year after his journey among the stars in search of these mysterious Creators began, his yearning to return home had grown stronger with each passing day.

But he couldn't return yet until he found the beings who had sent Lockdown to apprehend him. If he had stayed back on Earth, they might send another bounty hunter to capture him. And with Galvatron on the loose, the lives of his family would be put into even more danger, especially with the Seed in his possession. As such, though his spark had ached at the decision, he chose to leave his home and travel the galaxy.

Besides, there was another reason for his inability to go back yet - one that had suddenly come up during his interstellar travel.

"_**Th...is...ity comman...Ultr...nus!...Reque...ing imm...iate ba...up!...To a...one wh...ca...hear thi...ur sit...ion...i...critical!...We are in nee...of di...upport!...Pleas...es...ond!"**_

He had received the broken message in the eight month of his voyage just as he was passing through a dwarf planet; as soon as he did, he didn't think twice before postponing his search and tracking down its source. The distress signal came from a very familiar signature, one he thought had already perished during the great exodus when the Autobots evacuated Cybertron. And if he was alive and well, there was a chance there were others with him as well. It was this small glimmer of hope that had led him to this barren world, and he had been journeying since then across the endless landscape.

He finally stood to his full height, tearing his gaze away from the sky at last and looking towards the horizon with a determined expression. Two months and there was still no sign of any lifeforms. The signal pointed him towards this planet, but so far his search had not bore him any results. And yet, he wouldn't stop seeking. His spark, and the Matrix of Leadership within his chest as well, urged him to keep pressing forward; he was almost there, he could sense it. All he needed was a few more days of searching and he would find them at last.

"I'm coming, old friend," he vowed.

And so with that much-awaited reply, Optimus Prime finally transformed into his vehicle form and drove towards the horizon.

**XxFoDxX**

"Doctor, I think we're almost there."

James Burton, an elderly man in his early 60s, but still very much healthy and strong enough to explore caves and buried temples, replied with a smile. The person, a woman named Selina, was already like a daughter to him, having spent almost fifteen years since her graduation on his team - the longest so far. Frankly, he couldn't have asked for a better assistant and aide, and he was glad to have her on board this expedition he had set up.

"Yes, Selina," the man glanced down at the map he was holding, illuminating it with a helmet-mounted flashlight. The corridor they were traversing continued for a few more meters before branching in three directions. The left led to the upper levels, taking them back to the surface. The right one would seemingly reach a dead end while the middle route directly led to what looked like the main chamber.

"The entrance should be just a few yards ahead," Dr. Burton murmured and looked up. The path was narrow, just wide enough for two people to walk elbow-to-elbow. Numerous cracks dominated the floor from various earthquakes that had rocked this portion of Mexico, and they had to be careful or else they might lose their footing. Of course, Mayans had some of the most advanced engineering and architectural skills during their time, and their construction had weathered the test of time. However, these ruins from the past were still ancient no matter how skillful the workers had been; as such, one must still exercise caution when exploring their depths.

"Just a few more minutes, everyone, and we'll be seeing the end of our journey," the elderly archaeologist smiled in reassurance at the two dozen people filing in a long column behind him. Seven hours inside and they still had yet to reach the center of the temple. These kinds of structures usually didn't take that long to scour; Mayan temples were not that huge, and the biggest one had been no more than a hundred meters at its base. But this particular one seemed to be larger than average, perhaps the largest one in existence yet. Buried deep underground within a cave, it had taken them almost an hour to find its entrance. If that was the case, then this temple might just become the greatest discovery of the year.

There was a chorus of affirmatives, and the group pushed forward with the archaeologist in the lead. Though they were going slow, Burton's team didn't mind. They were simply matching their pace with their leader, an unofficial protocol they had implemented during the years they had spent under him. With his age, the man was no longer as agile as he once was, the rule was created out of respect for his kindness and role as their leader. Besides, the cramped space prevented them from moving quickly anyway.

"Dr. Burton, what do you think we'll find inside?" Selina's blonde pony-tailed hair swayed as she looked at her senior.

Dr. Burton stopped briefly in his tracks to ponder her question, his wrinkled face morphing into a thoughtful expression. "Who knows?" he shrugged in response and resumed his walk. "Mayan temples like these were built to act as an observatory. Maybe we'll find more clues as to how they studied the stars and predicted astronomical phenomenon such as eclipses. That," his eyes twinkled in amusement, "or we may find another ancient calendar of theirs."

A murmur of agreement rose from the group. They had been doing this for many years now, and the ancient structures they visited across the globe all shared the same purpose: a sacred temple for an obscure god, an observatory to map out the constellations and other astronomical phenomenon, a tomb for a revered king or leader, or a combination of all three. From the Incans to the Mayans and Aztecs, their temples bore many similarities with each other; a stepped pyramid much smaller than those of the Egyptians with construction based on the positions of the sun and other heavenly bodies.

"I'll bet you guys fifty bucks it will say the world will end again next year," someone at the far back said with a snort, earning him a chuckle from the entire group.

"I don't doubt your words, Connor." Dr. Burton shook his head and smiled. "But, hopefully, we'll find something better than that."

Like most in his field, it was his lifelong dream to find an ancient relic that no one else had discovered yet. As such, when he learned about another buried Mayan temple in Mexico, he immediately assembled an expedition team to comb its depths. The temple, another ancient observatory based on various documents he had read, was unusually large for a Mayan structure like it. Standing at three hundred feet at its topmost height and presumably having an area of at least nine hundred square feet, only the top quarter was above the ground and inside a cave they entered before; the rest were buried deep. What he found quite peculiar about this structure was the size itself; Mayans didn't usually go for a temple this big unless they hid a lot of relics within. But even if that was the reason, something as large as this was impractical for them.

Up ahead, a large stone door loomed. Dr. Burton's heart immediately pulsed in response and his steps took a more eager spring on them. Placing one hand on the dirt-covered left wall to steady himself, he led his team through the narrow path and passed an intersection, ignoring the two side hallways. He didn't care much about them since they lead towards nothing important, the main chamber in the center was their objective anyway. As his excitement grew with each step, so did the corridor itself, allowing four persons to walk abreast without bumping into each other. This had made their progress much faster, and in just a few minutes Dr. Burton and his team finally stood in front of the stone doorway.

They gazed at it in awe. No matter how many times they did this, the sense of wonder in exploring ancient ruins built by civilizations already long gone was still present in their hearts and had no sign of diminishing. Even if they reach the same age as Dr. Burton, the way their hearts hammered inside their chest whenever they get to the main chamber was something that would never really vanish, and they would forever experience it as long as they continue working in this field. The allure of the mysterious and unknown had set all of them to take this career path, and however hard each expedition may be, they wouldn't stop; the rewards they would reap in the end was worth the long journey.

With a trembling hand, the elderly archaeologist touched the stone, wiping away the accumulated dust from years of being buried underneath the ground. Much like how a father would to his long lost child, he caressed the surface slowly, savoring its roughness with the palm of his hand. This door led to a chamber that might hold a number of relics that could place him on the science newspaper for days, and his excitement was growing by the minute. From his observation, the door needed to be pushed inwards to open, just like every ancient stone slabs of that time. Fortunately, his team included a number of men that were up to the task.

He suddenly frowned. As he brushed away more of the dust to reveal the surface, he began to notice strange glyphs from where his hands had passed through.

"Doctor, I don't think these are Mayan," Selina said quietly beside him, peering closer at the symbols. She had studied a lot of Earth's ancient languages and alphabets from Egyptian hieroglyphics to the Brahmic scripts of India, but the ones she were looking at now was unlike anything she had ever come across.

"No, they are not," Burton murmured while brushing two fingers on a particular glyph. "Not even Egyptian or any other type of symbol I've seen."

"Yeah. Those seems curvy like the Chinese. But unlike them, these ones seem to lack any straight lines," an expert in ancient alphabets and symbols said while inspecting it carefully.

"I think it's best if we enter now." Dr. Burton decided. "We might be able to find something inside. Something we could use to decipher these symbols." He motioned for his team to proceed and four men pushed against the large door, straining with some effort. With a low rumble, the entrance opened. Taking a step inside cautiously, Burton and Selina shone their flashlights around, their eyes instantly widening in astonishment.

The chamber was shockingly vast, stretching as wide as an average land lot and half as high. Various paintings of ancient people and animals decorated the smooth walls and the bowl-shaped ceiling was terrifyingly sculpted to perfection that no odd bumps could be seen on the stone. Old and dusty earthen jars filled the room while stone tablets containing almanacs and ancient calendars were stacked neatly in one corner. There was even a painting of what looked like Russia on a slab of stone, prompting a member to approach it in curiosity. Mayans weren't supposed to have traveled beyond their empire, and them possessing a map of other countries seemed perplexing.

A number of ancient relics were truly beyond anything they had dreamed; this was by far the biggest discovery of such collections, and they had not even searched the entirety of the structure yet. However, while their finds had already granted them a page in the newspaper, it was the thing in the center of the chamber that cemented their place in the history books.

On the ceiling, a large hole dominated the center where a shaft of sunlight pierced through, illuminating a pillar of stone below which seemingly aligned perfectly with the beam of light. The column was as tall as an average man and smooth as marble, ground and chiseled into fine detail that no modern machinery could match. At its base were carved more of those strange glyphs found on the entrances, glinting in the sunlight, while nestled safely on top was a metal object of an unknown material, smooth and round, with a silvery sheen like liquid mercury and a line of mysterious symbols ringing its circumference like a message or a warning.

Dr. Burton immediately dropped his flashlight at once, and the rest of his team gazed in wonder and shock. No ancient civilization could have crafted something like it, not with the primitive tools of that time. Only one thing came to his mind when they saw it; whoever or whatever made it didn't originate from Earth. And as he approached the mystifying object slowly, Burton whispered in awe.

"My god..."

* * *

The sun rose steadily on the horizon, carrying with it the promise of another scorching midday heat and a hot afternoon. Meanwhile, the dry humid wind blew gently from the south, creating updrafts and an increased chance of a twister forming from an otherwise clear sky. It was during these moments that weather outposts were usually on high alert, and aircraft rarely flew in the air. Texas was a state where tornados were frequent, being part of the well-known Tornado Alley, especially during the height of summer. As such, its citizens had already learned the art of caution with all the damages nature had wrought upon their land.

Drift could understand the fears they had whenever a tornado struck, having experienced a similar feeling during the great civil war on Cybertron. It was heart wrenching to see your home destroyed by the relentless storm of hatred and rage, to witness a conflagration of death and destruction sweeping everything in its path, leaving no survivors or properties standing. Many times he had been in the midst of such tragic events losing friends and families from numerous city bombings, or personally seeing mass genocides of hapless civilians. It was for these reasons that he had veered away from the path of bloodshed and chose the road to justice and redemption.

But despite all the devastation he had seen, it didn't stop him from fulfilling his missions. He was a warrior first, and he had learned that clouding his spark with negative emotions would just hinder his decisions. As such, he had disciplined himself to focus on his tasks first rather than be burdened with self-doubt and worry - like now for example. He was not deterred by the dangers of a tornado brewing out of nowhere and chose to fly instead as part of his routine patrol around the countryside.

The former Decepticon banked to his left. He usually didn't utilize his helicopter mode whenever the team went on a recon, preferring to travel on the ground and feel the wind brushing against his frame as he sped along the road. He was more comfortable with the roughness of asphalt on his tires rather than the turbulent wind on his rotor blades, the adrenaline rush that always coursed through his engine every time he pushed his speed to the limit was more potent than an infusion of liquid energon. The view offered by the vast agricultural fields of Texas was also something he wouldn't enjoy when driving, or the droves of cattle and horses grazing lazily was a sight that could only be seen clearly while in the sky.

"**_I'm stuck in traffic. Again._**"

That, and he wasn't susceptible to road hindrances, unlike his grounded comrades.

"That's because you didn't take my advice, Crosshairs," Drift said.

"**_Of course, I won't!_**" the paratrooper snapped through the comm channel. "**_I don't want to see nothing but dumb cows and endless green fields that reminds me too much of Hound_**_._"

"**I heard that, jerk ass.**"

Venting through his exhaust ports, the triple changer snorted and continued on his flight. There was never really a dull moment when he was with them, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was glad to be part of the pathetic dirty foursome as Hound often referred to themselves. Despite their brazen attitudes and volatile behavior, he couldn't have wished for better comrades to have beside him. And even though they squabbled like children fighting over a toy, each of them would easily lay down his life for the other, no matter how many times they denied it to others and to themselves.

"**Status report, Drift,**" Hound said. Going for a short dive to avoid a flock of birds, the samurai answered.

"Everything's clear. I'm heading back from the countryside. You?"

"**As usual,**" the commando grunted. "**Palo Duro Canyon is just as dull as Crosshairs' face.**"

"_**Not as dull as your paint job,**_" Crosshairs sneered.

Hound snorted. "**At least, I'm not wearing a man-skirt.**"

"_**This is a trench coat, you moron!**_"

Releasing a sigh, Drift flew faster while listening to the bickerings of his two teammates. Honestly, he really just wished they were more composed and behaved, but he guessed that's just the way they were. Four years after joining them and he had come to accept that the Autobots were not the most disciplined among the two factions. They were mostly laidback and carefree despite being fearsome warriors, unlike the Decepticons who were more military-oriented and organized. Though maybe that's because the Autobots were generally comprised of industrial workers and scientists - civilians who were once protected by the very enemies they were fighting now - whereas the other group was formed from the vast majority of Cybertron's Defense Force.

Of course, not all Autobots were like Hound and Crosshairs. There were some who had served in the military as well, like Ultra Magnus and his Royal Guards, or those who had been ordinary street enforcers. In fact, they were the first ones who had resisted when Megatron started the rebellion inside the High Council Chambers, protecting the civilians and elders until a rescue force could arrive. Those who had survived quickly enlisted in the initial Autobot army when the war began, immediately rising through the ranks to become high-ranking officers and tacticians. It was they who had repelled the various Decepticon assaults during the early days of the conflict using methods honed from apprehending criminals, disrupting further advances to vital locations. And when they finally had a larger formidable force, these officers became valued commanders and advisers for the Autobot cause.

That's why it irked him to no end that he just had to end up with the rowdiest group he had ever known. It was much calmer before the extermination, and he sorely missed the company of his fellow swordsman, Sideswipe. Even he would take the chance to be with Ratchet instead, as grumpy and scary as he was. Those two were probably the only disciplined ones aside from his sensei, having actually served in the military and politics, respectively. But alas, all of them were gone. And he was stuck with mechs who acted more like fools than proper warriors.

"**Bee, how's your side?**"

"**Old Mcdonald had a farm! Eiya eiya yow!**"

And a mech who, despite being a talented fighter, was still very much a child in his optics.

Drift grunted in slight irritation, passing a couple of farm lands below before asphalt roads and small urban towns replaced them. At his current flight speed, the Texas Hill Country gradually vanished behind him and the more populous metropolises of the state came into view. Up ahead, the sprawling city of Houston drew closer, forcing him to climb to a higher altitude. Police helicopters frequently patrolled in these parts and he didn't want to cause any trouble. Despite the government giving them recompense for the wrongdoings Cemetery Wind had wrought, he and the others still didn't trust them. They had already suffered too many betrayals both within and outside their ranks, and they didn't want history to repeat itself once more. As such, they were reluctant to interact with anyone not part of the Yeager family.

He passed a skyscraper, making his way deeper through the city. The highways below were congested with traffic, and he was really glad he chose to fly today. He could imagine just how dull it was for Crosshairs to remain stuck on the road waiting for the line of cars to move forward, constantly being on high guard for any suspicious vehicles and humans. It would be pretty stressful especially with his behavior, and he was certain the humans were already getting irritated at the way he was blaring his horns - the paratrooper often did that whenever he was caught in traffic.

"**_Idiots,_**" the paratrooper grumbled in the comms, and the rumble of his engine sounded. "**_Just hurry up already! I'm dying of boredom in here!_**"

Drift sighed and banked left. "Nothing will happen if you keep complaining, Crosshairs."

"**_Easy for you to say!_**" Crosshairs retorted. "_**You got two alternate modes**_!"

"It's not my problem if your spark couldn't handle a frame and systems upgrade," the samurai commented dryly.

"_**As if being a triple changer makes you a better mech than me! I bet you can't do half the things I can!**_"

"I can jump straight from the top of a building without a parachute if that's what you're saying," Drift deadpanned.

"_**Smartass,**_" Crosshairs muttered. "_**I'm really going to shoot you later!**_"

"**Guys, that's enough,**" Hound interrupted. "**Drift, what's your location?**"

"I'm almost out of Houston," Drift replied, glad for the change in subject. "I'll be in sight of the house by noon."

"**Good,**" the commando acknowledged. "**I'm coming from the north. Should be there before one PM. Bee?**"

"**Austin, but almost out of the city as well,**" the scout replied.

"**Affirmative. Rendezvous with Drift at the nearest point.**"

"_**Hey, what about me?**_" Crosshairs exclaimed.

"**You're stuck in traffic, buddy,**" Hound snorted. "**The last time that happened, it took you until evening to return.**"

"**_Oh, come on!_**"

"Don't worry, Crosshairs," Drift's tone was smug. "We'll tell Cade to keep the garage doors open."

"_**Never mind!**_" the paratrooper snapped. "**_I can manage on my own. And I'll make sure to get there before any of-_**"

Whatever else Crosshairs was going to say was lost to Drift in an instant as an energon signature flashed in his radar. With a start, he swerved to the left to avoid a collision with a towering skyscraper, barely managing to keep himself from crashing into it. The appearance of that signature was so sudden it had distracted him from his path, something he rarely did during flight. He was usually focused on flying, and no one could catch him off guard even during combat.

He stayed in the air for a moment, righting himself and hovering as he scanned the area around his position. But he found nothing unusual in the streets. Had he just imagined it? The signal had vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, but he couldn't be mistaken as to whom it belonged; it was _him_. The familiar energon signature he had briefly detected was the same as his, and his sensors were all calibrated. Besides, after spending more than a thousand years under the same dojo, he had already memorized his presence; he should be able to recognize it even if they had not seen each other in person for more than two millennia.

But where was he?

"**Drift, you okay?**" Hound asked in concern.

"I... Yes. Yes, I am," the former Decepticon let out a shaky voice. He zoomed in on several streets but found nothing that matched the signal.

"**Are you sure?**" the mech didn't seem convinced. **"For a moment, you've been cut off from our channel. We thought something bad had already happened.**"

"**Yeah,**" Bumblebee agreed. "**In fact, you almost sounded like you've seen a ghost.**"

_Ghost_. Drift trembled briefly at the word, swaying in the air. Was that really what he had detected: a ghost? Was his past coming back to haunt him? It seemed far-fetched since he didn't know what happened to him anymore after their last meeting, though it was quite plausible that he had already perished in combat. But that would be unlikely; Drift had received the same training as him, and he was still alive. There's no way he could have died easily, not when he had promised to settle the score between them once the war was over. Therefore, what he had sensed was most likely not part of his imagination.

"I'm alright, really," the samurai turned slowly to face the direction of their house. "It was nothing. Nothing at all," he muttered, more to himself than the others. But deep inside his spark, he doubted his own words.

_Was it really nothing?_

**XxFoDxX**

With the concentration of someone performing a critical surgery on a real person, Cade Yeager gingerly welded shut the two pieces of plates, finally completing his latest project.

It was a gauntlet. Made from magnesium alloy, the glove covered half of a person's arm with two large openings to allow free range of movement for the fingers, creating a handle as well. The middle portion was open, allowing it to be slipped through the forearm before numerous clamps on the sides retract to enclose the limb in a secured form. At the top, a three-pronged hook lay with a wire attached to a winding mechanism, activated by the simple click of a switch in the handle. While on the side was a button meant to eject the winch in case the user needed to slap on a new one.

This was the old grapple glove invented by the deceased Autobot scientist, Que, and Cade was allowed to tinker with it along with several items left by N.E.S.T. He was lucky, really. When the elite task force was shut down and disbanded by the US after cutting ties with the Autobots, the unfinished projects left by the organization were shelved indefinitely due to budget constraints, and no one had resumed them since then. Neither did the Pentagon allow its selling to private companies since there was a high chance the blueprints could be stolen by terrorists or even other countries - both of which no one would want. Fortunately, when the whole incident with Attinger was over, the government was more than willing to return them to the Autobots as recompense. And the bots, though still distrustful, begrudgingly accepted the offer.

Unfortunately, none of them had any knowledge about engineering. Not even Hound, although he had some experience in repairing and piloting spacecraft. As such, and they had all but designated it to him anyway, it fell on Cade's hands to try and unveil the mysteries of Que's projects.

But therein lied the problem itself; the data and files given to him were just too overwhelming that he couldn't decide where to start. There were blueprints for many Autobot weapons, a schematic for a spaceship named Hyperion, notes for constructing a scaled-down version of a Space Bridge, and various other things that left him with a migraine the size of one of Hound's bullets. There was even an idea to convert radioactive waste into low-grade energon, something the Autobots sorely needed with all the fighting they had done during the last five years. It was one of the projects that Cade wanted to tackle immediately due to its potential. But until he could sort out his schedule and understand Que's notes - some of them encrypted and written in Modern Autobot - he couldn't really start.

That's why he had decided to start from the easier ones first to familiarize himself with the scientist's handiwork, the grapple gloves being one of them. Along with the explosive boomsticks, it was one of the smaller items specifically made for human use that he could disassemble and tinker with without much difficulty. It took him several days, but he was finally able to learn how each part worked and applied his own improvements to it, creating several blueprints for a set of variants in the process. And now, he was ready to test the newly-upgraded Grapple Glove Mark-2.

He took off his protective goggles, wiping away the beads of sweat sticking on his forehead and looked around his workshop. Numerous tools lay scattered across a steel table on one corner, and the right portion was predominantly occupied by several half-finished inventions. His eyes skimmed past the large workbench on the center littered with even more of his projects, settling briefly on the pair of computers running checks on Que's files before moving on. Though larger than his old shed, his current workspace was just as cluttered and messy with circuit boards and power tools lying in just about every corner of the room and floor. It was something Tessa had often complained about during their first few weeks after moving into their new home, but gradually grew accustomed to as the months passed. Old habits die hard, and Cade's unorganized way of placing things was one of them.

His eyes finally stopped roving as they landed on a small fridge at the far corner. Since his projects usually took him an entire night, he always made sure he had enough snacks and drinks to sustain himself. Taking a walk inside the house to simply eat would just take time, and he could have spent it on his inventions instead. There were even times when he holed up in his workshop for several days; as such, he had a small bathroom installed on the side as well as a mini kitchen for days when he couldn't leave his spot.

He attached the gauntlet on his right arm, settling for a soda can sitting on top of the fridge as his target. The cool metal surface slid smoothly onto his limb, and the clamps on the sides immediately locked into place as he stretched out his arm. Aiming with one eye closed, Cade momentarily calculated the distance in his mind. Seven yards was more than enough for a wire that could reach up to thirty, and he was confident it would work. He didn't change the overall design of the gloves much anyway, merely adding improvements to the mechanisms and making the frame more streamlined and less bulky. Therefore, there shouldn't be any problem occurring. Hopefully.

He took a deep breath, steadied the hammering beat of his heart, and pressed the fire button. In an instant, the gauntlet shuddered before going rigid. With a faint click, the three-pronged grappling hook launched into the air, accompanied by a soft whirr from the winch. The projectile homed in on its target in less than a second like an arrow, puncturing the tin metal and embedding itself on the surface. His lips curving into a small smile, Cade pushed another button and the winding mechanisms reeled the wire and hook, finally taking with it the soda can.

The inventor opened the can and drank its contents, savoring the sweet taste as he looked at the grapple glove in his arm. There was still some kinks left in the winch, and he didn't like how it took more than a second for the frame to secure itself on his forearm. The hook seemed to lack piercing power as well, something he would need to work on later. In any case, despite the adjustments he would have to make, it was more or less a successful trial and he could proudly say that he had finally made it work.

He leaned back in his seat, stretching his cramped muscles before crumpling the can in his hands throwing it away into a nearby trash can. He glanced at the digital wall clock and noticed the time: it was almost ten o'clock. He could take a short rest and eat a quick lunch before continuing his adjustments on the gauntlet. The Autobots wouldn't be back until sometime later from their weekly reconnaissance mission around the state, and he could probably do a quick sweep of their garage before they arrived. Only God knows how four highly advanced sentient alien robots could get such a small space as messy as a human's room, despite lacking the basic needs an organic would require. It was truly baffling, although he was not really surprised; he had been doing the same thing since high school.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. They were so similar to humans despite being a vastly different race, and he often wondered what kind of being could have created them. It just seemed wrong to think of them as simple machines built by someone; they were far beyond that from what he had already seen and experienced. They think, they feel, and they have souls just like humans did. You couldn't get that from an ordinary robot no matter how advanced their programming was.

With a sigh, Cade removed the gauntlet and placed it on the workbench. Well, only one mech could uncover that mystery, and he was light-years away from Earth traveling the galaxy. And wherever he was right now, there's no doubt he was thinking along the same lines. After all, he was once a scientist, and much like an inventor, people in that field were just as curious about something they couldn't understand.

Cade stood up, giving his workshop a sweeping glance before walking towards the door into the bright morning outside, inhaling the fresh Texas air with a smile of satisfaction. The sun rose high, and a few puffs of clouds drifted lazily across the blue canvas of the sky. It would be another hot day judging by the humid wind that ruffled his shirt, but he didn't mind. He would be spending his time working on his projects inside the workshop anyway, safe from the scorching midday and afternoon heat.

He started to head for the house, a Greek inspired farmhouse not too different from the one they had before. It was slightly smaller with blue and white paint schemes outside but possessed a wider balcony at the front. Since it was just him and Tessa living together, he didn't want a bigger home and told Joshua to keep it simple but cozy enough. They didn't have any close relatives that would want to visit them, and he was the only child of his parents which were already long dead. Therefore, it's only practical to live in a house with just three bedrooms instead of five.

He suddenly frowned as he neared the front porch. There were two loud voices coming from the living room locked in, what sounded like, a very heated argument.

"Don't worry, Bones! We'll fix you up in no time!" one of the voices frantically said.

"And he'll just break down again in two days," a second voice sighed.

"Oh, shut up!" the first one snapped. "Just help me fix his circuits!"

Cade shook his head and sighed, climbing up the front steps of the balcony. "Those two," he thought as he entered through the main door. Inside, he found two diminutive figures that made up their current household: former Decepticon drones, Wheelie and Brains.

The inventor approached the duo, noting the various tools scattered on the pine floor, right beside a robotic dog. It was the very same one he had built several years ago and was one of his few inventions that had miraculously survived his old house's destruction. Unfortunately, the damage it suffered seemed to be too great when he found it buried under piles of rubble, and he simply discarded the broken invention along with several others. Its CPU was made from an antic computer anyway, and he couldn't have done anything to repair it.

To his surprise, when the two drones began living with him after Hound tracked down their hideout, Wheelie asked to fix the dog as soon as he saw it rusting away in the workshop. Of course, Cade granted the request, but he was completely baffled at the same time. Day after day Wheelie worked tirelessly to give the mechanical hound a complete overhaul, revising its frame design and replacing the metal platings with new ones. He even named it Bones as if it was an actual living animal.

And yet for all the bot's hard work, it seemed that Bones could no longer be saved. His systems kept malfunctioning despite the upgrades Wheelie had made, and his processors would always short-circuit at the slightest tinkering. The longest time he had gone without repairs was a week while the shortest one was a day at best. The mechanical dog was a hopeless case, and Cade found it both amusing and strange that someone like Wheelie would spend energy and resources to fix him. There were others in his repertoire of inventions that was more promising and needed repairs, after all.

"He broke down again?" he said as he knelt beside them.

"Yeah," Brains nodded. "Processor short-circuited while we were trying to install an advanced scanner. Apparently, the damage caused by your house's destruction prevented this one from getting an upgrade," he pointed at the dog. "I told Wheelie here it's no use, but-"

"He won't listen," Cade sighed and glanced at the former Decepticon.

"Come on, we can still fix him!" Wheelie argued while opening a hatch in the dog's head and yanking out some wires.

"I did a scan, Wheelie. The circuits were heavily fried," Brains rolled his optics and clambered on the leather sofa. Picking up the remote, he turned on the TV and browsed through the channels.

"No, no. Bones can still be fixed..." Wheelie muttered as he removed a smoking microchip.

"Why don't you just use a new chipset?" Cade suggested with a slight frown. "I have several of them stocked up in the shed. He'll just keep malfunctioning with that old chip."

The diminutive bot scratched his head as he thought, a sight that was both comical and weird. As far as the inventor knew, they were not really itches but neural impulses made by their central processors - their brains in essence.

"I suppose you're right," he mumbled at last and inspected the microchip in his hands with a distant expression. Cade hadn't ask Brains and the others yet for confirmation, but he could tell there was something more behind Wheelie's near fanatical obsession in fixing the mechanical dog. It was related to their previous relationship with the humans before Cemetery Wind began hunting them, he was sure of it. And whatever it was, he certainly hoped he could help. They were already part of the family, and it seemed only right they support each other through any means.

"Don't worry, you can still fix him," the inventor patted the bot's shoulders in reassurance. Then he stood up and glanced at the clock. "Did the others called already?"

"Yup," Brains replied. "Said they'll be here before two. Oh," he suddenly turned his head in Cade's direction, "I almost forgot. A bunch of letters just arrived an hour ago," the bot pointed to a stack of envelopes sitting on the table. "One of them looks like the usual notice for our monthly allowance."

Cade's eyebrows rose a little in surprise, and he immediately approached the table. It sure was early this time, he thought as he picked up the pile and sifted through them until he found the specific envelope. Checking the name and address out of habit, he tore the seal and quickly took out the letter, reading its contents.

Ten thousand dollars, tax-free. That's the amount they were receiving from the US government given as an incentive for working on the projects. That didn't include the other benefits of giving Tessa free scholarship to any university of her choice until she got a master's degree for whatever course she might take - in this case mechanical engineering, much to Cade's surprise and joy - as well as paying for anything the Autobots might need, whether it was ammunition or spare parts. It was supposed to be the government's way of saying sorry, but in reality it was just a polite action to keep their mouths from spouting unnecessary things; though the President had placed all the blame on Attinger and Cemetery Wind for what happened in Hong Kong, as well as passing an Act that partially revived the Human-Autobot treaty, the simple truth that they were indirectly responsible for that event couldn't be ignored. And to keep Cade and the Autobots from stirring trouble, they decided to send them monthly allowances as recompense.

Well, not that it mattered. If Tessa could study without relying too much on charity and the bots were safe from harm, Cade was willing to let this minor deal pass. He didn't want to make a big ruckus out of it himself, and honestly speaking, ten grand was too big a sum for anybody to ignore. As long as the White House kept their promise, there wouldn't be any problem on their side.

"Alright, I'll just be in the kitchen," he nodded and replaced the letter back, browsing through the other ones as he walked towards the pantry. "If you need something for Bones here, use the workshop."

With that, he entered through the door to prepare for lunch.

* * *

Bumblebee had just exited the city of Austin when the warning appeared on his HUD.

The scout nearly skid to a halt in shock. It was so sudden and out of the blue, he almost collided with a roadside store because of panic. Fortunately, he steadied himself and was able to alter his course, his engines roaring as he pushed his speed to the limit.

"**Bee!**" Hound called immediately. He was not surprised that the commando's voice was loud and urgent; the early warning system they had installed in a five-mile radius around the Yeager property was connected to all four of them. If someone unregistered and unwanted entered without proper clearance, they would immediately know it.

"I'm on my way!" Bumblebee responded, speeding across the road like a demon.

"_**Who the hell could that be?!**_" Crosshairs sounded pissed off, revving his engines. He must be still stuck in traffic.

Hound grunted. "**Who knows? All I can see is that we have three unregistered visitors entering our territory. And I'm sure as hell I don't like any bit of it!**"

"**They didn't even notify us,**" Drift mused on another line.

"**True,**" the veteran agreed. "**Where are you now, anyway?**"

"**Forty-six miles from home base,**" the samurai answered. "**But I can't go back on the ground. The roads are jampacked with traffic.**"

"**Not good,**" Hound muttered. "**Bee! You are the fastest. Forget about the speed limit and get back there as fast as you can!**"

Bumblebee didn't need to be told twice, of course, or even once, for that matter; he was already doing that before Hound even spoke. Nevertheless, as a sign of respect for their current "Leader of the Month", he replied with a short confirmation.

"You got it, Boss."

And then almost like a yellow blur, the Autobot scout sped along the highway.

**XxFoDxX**

Meanwhile back at the house, they all detected the intrusion at the same time as the others did.

It was almost 10:30 AM and Cade was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, silently eating lunch and reading the other letters for any requests from private clients. Despite working for the government, he didn't want to rely too much on them considering their track record for terminating agreements, and he wanted a steady flow of income. Ten thousand dollars might seem like a lot, but when you were living under the same roof with six alien robots, four of which could cause significant collateral damage, that sum looked meager. Plus, he wanted to leave Tessa a substantial amount of money if ever something bad happened to him. As such, he was also doing work on the side like fixing cars and appliances, acting as freelance mechanic and repair guy.

And so there he was, twirling pasta with his fork as he finished listing down the names of the clients who had requested for his services before moving on to write a short letter of response for each of them. There were not many, just under a dozen, but one of them asked him to fix several appliances and was willing to pay a good three hundred dollars. That in itself was not bad, and he immediately began to compose a brief letter.

But then the sirens started blaring, and whatever else he was going to write was instantly forgotten.

He was immediately on his feet, dropping his fork with a clang on the plate and rushed to the living room just as Wheelie barreled towards him with an agitated expression. "Cade! There're some government cars approaching us!" the drone yelled and pointed at the security console on the far corner manned by Brains.

"How many?" Cade quickly approached the other drone, taking a glance at the video feeds showing the area around the property. They were taken from various security cameras placed in strategic positions all over the place to keep watch on the perimeter for any signs of intruders, hidden inside trees or tied to posts and fences. Most of them displayed vast expanse of cornfields in all directions, except for one feed giving a full view of the road leading to their farm. And in that window, he could see three SUVs kicking up dust as they steadily approached from the north.

"Have you already contacted the others about this?" Cade asked grimly. Memories of last year's incident with Cemetery Wind suddenly came unbidden into his mind, and his expression darkened in an instant. There were a couple of times when he would wake up in the middle of the night heavily sweating at the scene of Tessa pressed on the ground with a gun pointed at her head, sobbing in terror and calling for help. He didn't want that to happen again, and he and the Autobots had taken great measures to ensure it wouldn't.

"Yes," Brains looked at Cade with worry. "but they are still too far and won't be here until one PM."

The inventor shook his head. Too long, and if this turned out like last year, they could be dead already. Although there were just three vehicles, there might be still others hiding out of range and simply waiting for the right moment to strike; if that happened, he doubted if they could hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

"Should we activate the defense system?" Wheelie suggested with a hopeful expression, his index finger hovering over the keyboard.

Cade hesitated, then glanced at the wall to his left where his reliable alien gun, which had somehow miraculously survived the battle with Lockdown, was hanging on display like a trophy weapon. He had not used it since then and was hoping he wouldn't have to. He didn't like violence too much, not unless it involved Tessa or any member of his family. However, under the present circumstances...

"No, don't," he decided and shook his head before looking back at the monitor. "We've just installed the turrets last week, and they are not yet fully calibrated. I don't want them accidentally shooting us." Then he paused briefly. "Besides, we still don't know who they are or what they want with us. For all we know, they could just be visiting."

The two drones looked at each other. Cade was right, but they still couldn't erase the growing apprehension from their sparks. What the government did five years ago hit them harder than Sentinel's betrayal did, and they were reluctant to trust them anymore. Many times they had been forced to go on the run, forcing their frame to the limit as they endlessly avoided traps and ambushes. It was a situation they didn't want to experience again and they were more cautious now than before. Even though Cade had a point, they didn't want to take a huge risk - not if it would endanger him and the family. Too many of their friends and families had been lost already from wars and conflicts, to add more people to the death count would simply be cruel and unfair.

"Then, what should we do?" Brains asked as the two looked at him.

For a moment, Cade was silent. It really could be nothing, maybe they were just overreacting and being paranoid - they didn't even know who the people were and if they meant any harm they would have brought more men. But he didn't see anyone else besides the three vehicles which were now pulling over to their yard. In any case, it was too late to do anything else and their only option was to greet them. Whoever they may be.

"Go upstairs and stay there. I'll go outside to talk with them," Cade started to approach the front door with a determined expression. But just as his hand touched the doorknob, he paused and looked over his shoulder briefly before speaking in a rather dark and grim tone. "If... something bad happens to me, make sure these guys doesn't leave the area alive."

And then he was gone, marching outside to welcome their visitors.

**XxFoDxX**

By the time Cade was halfway across their front lawn, most of the agents had already disembarked from the black SUVs. He thought 'agents' because nothing could explain the way they moved with precision and a sense of purpose, surrounding the area but not stepping onto the property itself. They were unlike Cemetery Wind who forcibly entered the premise and no one carried high-powered assault rifles and machine guns. Rather, they wore suits and ties with dark-tinted shades covering their eyes, the only sign that they were surveying the perimeter was the occasional turn of their head in different directions. Unlike Savoy's men who acted more like mercenaries, these guys seemed highly trained and disciplined, a fact that sent shivers down the inventor's spine. Whoever they were, it was obvious they were not here just for a simple visit.

A man stepped out from one of the SUVs, assisted by an agent who wordlessly opened the side door for him. He was heavyset, dark-skinned, and by the looks of it, the leader of the group and someone very important. Just like the rest, he wore a black suit with matching ties and shades that hid his eyes. Immediately, Cade felt uneasy at his presence. This man was different than Savoy; whereas the black ops team leader was savage and arrogant, this guy was calm and composed but hid an underlying fierceness underneath. It was the stance, not of an agent, but of a soldier. And frankly, that was more unnerving than an egotistical bastard like the deceased Cemetery Wind commander.

The man stepped forward to greet him. "Please to meet you, at last, Mr. Cade Yeager," he smiled, offering his right hand as he introduced himself. "William Fowler. I'm a Special Agent from the CIA and the new liaison to the Autobots."

For a moment, Cade stared at the agent's hand, narrowing his eyes slightly in suspicion. He'd like to admit, the gesture was surprising for a liaison. From the stories he had heard, the previous two government officials were not met with enthusiasm from both the bots and humans alike; the first liaison was an ignorant incompetent idiot, while the second one and previous director of N.E.S.T., though leagues better in terms of competency, was cold and overbearing to her subordinates. He had often wondered why the government chose such individuals if they wanted to build a good relationship with foreign parties, but he guessed that's just the way bureaucrats were. They never did understand regular people, anyway.

Nevertheless, it would be rude not to accept a genuine sign of peace. He was not that kind of a person, and as much as he loathed most government officials nowadays, he didn't want to extend it to someone simply offering his hand in introduction - that would be just wrong.

Cade raised his left hand, tentatively grasping the agent's in response... and nearly recoiled in shock. The man's grip was damn strong and firm, and he swallowed a bit as they briefly shook hands. He had no doubt that if the man had any hostile intentions, he could easily break his fingers and knock him out in a single punch.

"CIA, huh?" he spoke darkly at the mention of the name, all the while trying his best not to cradle his hand in pain. "I hate to tell you this, but me and my family had a bad run in with that agency just last year."

Fowler immediately flashed an apologetic smile. "I heard about that, and I assure you, Mr. Yeager, we are not here to repeat the same incident."

The agent's tone was reassuring and polite, but that didn't stop Cade's expression from hardening as he remembered how helpless they had been from Attinger's men. He had quickly learned not to trust anybody that had something to do with government intelligence agencies after that event unless it was a friend of his. Even clients were not spared from his wariness and cold demeanor once he learned they were from the CIA and FBI; he was a man of principle, and no amount of money could change his views about secret agents. People may call him paranoid and judgemental and everything else they could think of, but he didn't really care. They hadn't experienced seeing their daughters getting manhandled and threatened, unlike him.

"So why are you here?" Cade inquired, at last, raising his eyebrows at the agents behind Fowler. "Because I don't think this is just a normal visit."

The liaison stared at him for a minute, seemingly scrutinizing and seizing him up. In all honesty, it was very unnerving and Cade almost voiced out his growing irritation until Fowler took off his shades, at last, scanning the area behind him. "Are they in your garage?" his eyes landed on the enormous workshop.

Cade quickly closed his mouth, his eyebrows rising slightly higher. "Is that the reason for your visit?"

"You still haven't answered my question yet," Fowler returned his gaze back to Cade.

"Because you haven't answered mine," the inventor retorted with a heated glare.

"It's classified."

"Then how can I know you're not here to cause trouble?"

There was a moment of hesitation from Fowler and Cade was about to prepare himself for another response. He was growing impatient now by the minute with how their conversation was getting them nowhere; he still had lots of things to do, and talking with Fowler was taking his precious time. If the agent didn't get to the point soon, he might just walk away in irritation, consequences be damned.

He was just about to do that, beginning to turn on his heels, when Fowler sighed in defeat at last. "Very well. I'll get right to the point, Mr. Yeager." He paused, taking a short deep breath before saying in a serious voice.

"We need their help. Again."

The silence that ensued was enough to let them hear the grass rustle from the wind that had just blown. No one spoke for a few moments, and Fowler shifted his feet uncomfortably at the way Cade was looking at him as if he had just made an unintelligent statement. It was something that made his eyebrows twitch, unaccustomed as he was to people not taking him seriously. He had not risen to this position if his subordinates didn't respect his every word, and only a select few dared show defiance to his face.

And then, Cade laughed.

Doubling over slightly and clutching his abdomen, the inventor shook with unrestrained mirth, earning him a lot of strange glances and stares from Fowler and his agents. They must have thought he had suddenly gone insane, but honestly, he didn't care. This was the best laugh he had gotten in years, even better than the numerous shenanigans he and his friends had gotten into back in high school. Who knew that some agents were actually good comedians?

"Oh, I'm sorry!" He apologized with a chuckle as soon as he saw their looks, his laughing fit subsiding. "It's just that, it's the best joke I've heard in my entire life."

"I'm not joking, Mr. Yeager," Fowler visibly bristled, but kept his face as neutral as he could.

"Last year was no joke either," Cade shot back with an equal expression as he straightened up.

"We know that," Fowler nodded in understanding. "And we are deeply sorry for what happened to you and your family. But-"

"It's not just about us," Cade cut him off angrily. "You don't understand! They aren't willing to help you guys anymore. After what you did, they have already lost their trust in you. In fact, the only reason they are here is because their leader told them to protect my family and those we consider as such."

He had not been angry at someone like this before, but after living with the Autobots for a year and hearing their different stories before the civil war on Cybertron and then here on Earth, he realized just how much they had suffered for the people they once swore to protect. It disgusted him that the best payment humanity could give to them was hostility and resentment, condemning their saviors rather than treating them with respect and gratitude for the sacrifices they had made to protect this planet. Shouldn't they be glad that an alien race was defending them even though the Cybertronians had every right, not to mention the strength, to subjugate their race? And then here the government was asking for their help when just five years ago, they were the ones who first terminated the treaty. This had just proven how politicians had no shame whatsoever, and Cade was not happy at all.

"Mr. Yeager, I-" Fowler started, only to be interrupted by the inventor once more.

"Look. I'm sorry, Agent Fowler," Cade shook his head. "But I can't help you with this. You're asking the wrong guy, and the wrong group."

With that, he started to walk back towards his house, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He didn't even bother learning what kind of help they needed; it would just be the typical terrorist attacks, anyway. The Decepticons were scattered, and what few remains were simply easy to kill if the military might they often boasted was true. After all, if they had been able to effectively hunt the Autobots, what's to prevent the US army from doing the same with the faction that started this whole mess? He didn't even understand why they were asking the bots for help in the first place; surely, they were not that incompetent.

He shook his head in annoyance, not once stopping to look back. However, just as he was about to climb the first step of the porch, Fowler's next words made him stopped in his tracks.

"Mr. Yeager!" The agent called. "You haven't let me finish talking yet. We need their help because we discovered something that might be related to them." This time, Cade looked back. He stared at the man trying to catch the telltale signs of a bluff, but either he was a good actor or there was really nothing and he was telling the truth. The latter seemed most likely, and his interest was quickly sparked; just what did the government find that they were willing to swallow their overstuffed pride and seek the aid of the Autobots? In any case, he briefly pondered over and considered his next action first before finally grunting in response.

"Come inside then."

* * *

"You have to understand, Mr. Yeager," Fowler began after they had settled in the living room, facing each other on sofa chairs while the agent placed a briefcase on the table, "though our government has made a lot of mistakes in the past, they are more than willing to make up for it in any way they can."

"As they should," the inventor grunted and watched as Fowler withdrew a small manila envelope stamped with a bright red 'CLASSIFIED' on the front. He still didn't know what to make of all this, but he was hoping the contents of the envelope could help him decide. The Autobots' response highly depended on what the request was - if they found it unsatisfactory, then he doubted any amount of persuasion would change their minds.

Frowning slightly, Cade took the envelope when Fowler offered it to him. He didn't waste any more time in opening it, preferring to get this thing over as soon as possible so he could go back to his projects. It was almost eleven AM now, and he still had yet to finish his lunch - his pasta was probably ice cold by now.

However, all thoughts of his food and inventions instantly vanished the moment he pulled a set of photos from inside the envelope.

"Archaeologists found it deep inside a Mayan temple in Mexico," Fowler explained immediately as Cade's eyes widened. "They were scouring the ruin when they discovered that resting in the main chamber along with several relics from an ancient civilization. The team leader quickly contacted us thinking it might be dangerous." Then he paused for a moment. "We call it the 'Sphere', after its shape."

"But what is it?" Cade whispered in awe, unable to tear his gaze away from the picture. It was a shot of a spherical metallic object, encased in a large glass container and surrounded by several people in white lab coats. From what he could see, the Sphere was as tall as a man and just as wide, crafted with perfection in mind and showing not a spot of blemishes or bumps on its silvery surface. However, what caught his attention were the flowing lines of symbols on it that he recognized from several of N.E.S.T.'s files.

"We don't know," Fowler spread his hands helplessly. "We moved it immediately to a safe facility since it was releasing a large amount of Energon. The problem is, we couldn't discern what it is or its purpose."

"That's why you've come here to see them," Cade guessed, looking at the rest of the photos. "You're hoping they could help."

"Not hoping," the agent replied with a shake of his head and a smile. "We knew from the start that they will. After all, judging by those symbols in the object, it belongs to them. Much like the Cube."

Cade nodded. "Ancient Cybertronian."

One of the many perks of living with alien robotic lifeforms was he could learn as much as he could from their society - one of which was their language. It was essential since the majority of Que's projects were heavily encrypted in Cybertronian language, and he had to translate it or else he wouldn't be able to work on his inventions.

Fowler quirked his eyebrows. "I'm sorry?" he inquired, not having a clue what the inventor was talking about.

"The symbols. They're part of their language," Cade explained, scrutinizing the images closely. "Although judging by the ones written here, this one seems to be the older version." Then seeing Fowler's confused expression, he waved his hand dismissively. "Geek stuff. Never mind."

Fowler blinked but nodded. "So you understand what's written on the sphere?" he leaned forward slightly with a hopeful look.

The inventor shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. As I've said, these ones are old - they called it 'Ancient Cybertronian'," he shrugged. "And I only know the basics of their modern version."

The disappointment in the agent's eyes was clear as he sighed and leaned back in his seat. "I see," he muttered. "Then we really do have no choice but to consult them directly."

Fowler said this more to himself than Cade, prompting the inventor to shift uncomfortably in his chair. He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. While the Sphere had greatly piqued his curiosity, the final decision still lied with the Autobots. If they didn't really want to help the government, an ancient relic that could possibly be connected to their history would not do much in convincing them. They were too stubborn and even he had difficulties changing their minds once they had decided.

Although he was really hoping they would. It was just too hard to pass up the opportunity to learn more about their technology.

"About that..." the man said slowly, putting the pictures down on the table and looking at Fowler. "While this might help me convince them easier, I still don't think it is enough. I mean-"

Fowler held up his hands before he could even finish. "Mr. Yeager, I know what you mean. But you have to understand, the government needs to know if this thing is harmful or not and the only way we can do that is through them."

Immediately, Cade's expression darkened. "You should have thought of that before you did all that shit to them the last five years," he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms with a scowl. While he perfectly understood what Fowler meant, that's wasn't to say they could just demand things from the Autobots as if nothing had happened. It's one thing saying sorry for what you did, but to apologize and then expect something in return was another matter. If they were truly sincere, they wouldn't force the Autobots to do their bidding.

"Mr. Yeager, we already learned our lesson," the agent spoke, and for once, Cade detected real genuine sincerity in his voice. "In fact, we saw this as a great opportunity to regain their trust, however small it would be." He paused briefly, waiting for another snide remark from Cade. When none came, he continued. "Mr. Yeager, the government is willing to make amends with them. Right now, we need to know if the sphere is dangerous or not. After all, with the attacks in our country and other parts of the world during the last six years, we-"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You need someone else to do the job that you guys can't handle. As always," Cade snorted in derision at the government's incompetence in this kind of situation.

Fowler winced before sighing in agreement. "You're right about that. And believe me, I myself am frustrated because we can't solve this kind of problem without relying on others like them," he clenched his fists in frustration. "But we have no other choice. Our country can't handle any more of these potential threats." He looked at Cade straight in the eye, his voice taking a slight pleading tone. "I hope you understand what I'm trying to say, Mr. Yeager."

Cade turned away and lowered his gaze to the photos, seemingly scanning the images for the best answer as he mulled over what the agent had said. He was not really in any position to say yes to the request, but neither did he want to reject the offer. Though the mechs were no longer in danger from being hunted, Attinger and Cemetery Wind actions had created a wide rift between man and Cybertronians, even more so than the battle in Chicago did. However, as much as he hated government intelligence agencies, he didn't want the bots to nurture bitter resentment and mistrust in their sparks as well. It would just bring more pain to themselves and those around them, and with Optimus absent who knows what they might do when provoked. He wanted to avoid that from happening, preferring to have the Autobots gradually be reintroduced to the society as heroes rather than villains. And maybe this was the opportunity he had been waiting for.

"Agent Fowler, I can't guarantee their cooperation. After all, some wounds take a very long time to heal." At this, Fowler grimaced in disappointment. "However," Cade drew a deep breath. "I will try. But I won't make any promises."

Apparently, that was all Fowler wanted to hear as he soon visibly relaxed at the statement. "Thank you, Mr. Yeager." He nodded in satisfaction and smiled. "I assure you, you and the Autobots will not regret helping us."

He stood up, at last, and locked his briefcase - a sign that he was ready to leave. Cade followed his example, and Fowler extended his hand once more

"I'll be going now, Mr. Yeager," he said as they shook hands once more. "All the information you and Autobots might need, as well as how to contact us, is inside the envelope." Fowler gestured at the table. "Thank you for your time."

Cade merely nodded, escorting the agent outside in utter silence. A lot of things had happened and his mind was still busy figuring out how he could convince the Autobots to let go of their grudges for a while. It would definitely take a lot of talking, and while he pondered over what he would say when they arrive, he found himself standing in the front yard together with Wheelie and Brains as they watched the trio of SUVs drove away in the distance.

"And here I thought I could get some payback," the toy truck sighed in disappointment, hefting a miniature sniper rifle on his shoulder. The two had been holed up inside the attic while Cade was busy conversing with Fowler, keeping watch on the agents outside in case they did something remotely funny and suspicious.

"You and me both," Brains agreed, planting his own weapon on the ground. He looked up at Cade who was still gazing at the departing vehicles with a distant expression. "So, what's in the photo?" he asked, having heard the entire conversation together with Wheelie.

For a moment, the man was silent. Then he sighed, tearing his gaze away from the horizon and looked down on the small Autobot. "Let's wait for the others first." He said before turning on his heels and walking back towards the house, Wheelie and Brains following behind him.

**XxFoDxX**

It was almost one PM and the sun was at its zenith when the Autobots finally returned.

Sitting beside his workbench while working adjustments on the Grapple Glove, Cade heard the familiar sounds of car engines coming from outside, approaching the house at a steady rate. Removing his protective goggles and setting down the welding torch, he quickly stood up and strode outside, wiping the sweat from his face as the afternoon heat assaulted him. With the sun blazing brightly in the clear blue sky, he shaded his eyes as he gazed into the distance where a group of vehicles sped towards him.

Leading the group side by side was a yellow 2014 Chevrolet Camaro Concept car and a green 2014 Chevrolet Corvette C7 Stingray, their engines roaring as they rushed to his position in absolute haste. It's almost as if they were racing each other to the finish line, and if not for the large dark green Oshkosh Defense Medium Tactical Vehicle behind them with its exhaust pipes spewing smoke as it tried to match the speed of the two sports cars, anyone who would see them might assume so. Any person who would see them would also think they were just ordinary vehicles if not for the red insignia on their front fenders and hoods, as well as the fact that the cars were driverless, proving they were anything but normal.

Cade suddenly frowned, knowing there was still a fourth one. However, it seemed to be missing. But as the trio steadily approached, he heard a loud whirring noise overhead. Glancing upward in the noon sky, he saw a sleek black and blue helicopter circling the area like a hawk searching for prey to hunt. The aircraft flew high into the air, its surface glinting in the sunlight as it wheeled around more than a few times. It's almost as if the helicopter was looking for something, and it suddenly dawned on Cade that the other vehicles were now zipping past in a hurry, forming a protective circle around him.

Then everything clicked, and with an exasperated sigh, he realized what was going on as the three cars finally transformed. Crosshairs tumbled to his left, kneeling on one knee with his twin machine pistols raised as he scanned the area, his metal trench coat ringing loudly across the yard.

"Clear," the green mech announced.

"Seriously, guys. You're overreacting." Cade couldn't help but palm his face while Hound stood protectively in front of him, chomping on a bullet and holding up his triple-barreled minigun.

"You can never be too sure, Cade. It's best if we are cautious," Hound muttered, his optics scanning around for any visible threats. "Bee, check the backyard," the Autobot commando nodded to the yellow Camaro. Beeping in reply, the scout quickly rushed behind the property.

"Drift, you got anything in there?" Hound called to their samurai and air support.

"Nothing," the former Decepticon answered as he made one last circle before gradually descending back on the ground.

"Good," Hound grunted. A few moments later Bumblebee returned, back in his robot form.

"Everything's clear," the scout said through his radio as Drift transformed and landed behind him with a short roll.

"Have you checked behind the trees?" Hound narrowed his optics at the oaks dotting the area.

"Guys, please," Cade groaned. It's was always like this whenever they returned from a mission. They would often fuss about his safety, acting like paranoid security personnel as if he was the president of the US. Although he appreciated the kind gesture and concern, sometimes it was getting out of hand and downright silly. It's not as if he couldn't defend himself, anyway.

"Didn't see anything," the scout shrugged.

"Good," Hound nodded and finally looked at Cade, crouching down to examine the inventor with concern. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fin-"

"Have you been drugged? Manhandled? Threatened?" Bumblebee kneeled on one knee and peered at him for any signs of physical abuse.

"No, Bee. They didn't threaten me nor was I assaulted-"

"What about our files?" Crosshairs glanced at the garage. "You sure they didn't hack into our servers?"

Cade sighed. "If they did, the system would have fried the mainframe already." Then he grumbled and shook his head. "Seriously, guys. This is just too much."

"We're just concerned for you, Cade," Hound straightened up and shouldered his minigun.

"And I appreciate that. Really." He looked up and stared directly in the mech's optics. "But there's nothing to worry about. I'll be fine, okay? I am fine. I can protect myself. Besides," he added, "there's Wheelie and Brains."

"Those two?" the commando raised an optic ridge and pointed to their house where the two drones waved in response. "No offense to them, but can you see how tall they are?"

There was a shout of protest from the two and Wheelie angrily threw a can of soda in Hound's direction, the crumpled tin bouncing harmlessly at his feet. The attack having failed, the drone decided to stick out his middle fingers in a very rude way and blurted a stream of equally unpolite expletives.

"Right back at you, little buddy!" The veteran called and mirrored the drone's gesture. Then he glanced down at Cade. "See what I mean?"

"That's kind of low," the inventor rubbed the back of his neck and muttered.

"Because they are short," Crosshairs snickered. Then he turned serious and replaced his guns back into their holsters. "Alright, Cade. Spill."

Four pairs of bright optics locked onto him and Cade's expression changed to match their own. He held the paratrooper's gaze for a moment before turning to Hound who was still holding his gun, then at Drift looking calm and composed as ever, and finally to Bumblebee whose optics shone with curiosity. He suddenly felt very small under their gaze and he tried his best not to squirm in discomfort. But it was difficult, considering how four alien robots that were many times his height surrounded him. If he were just any ordinary person, he would have bolted already at the stares they were giving him.

"Follow me," he grunted at last and made his way to the garage.

* * *

When the architect consulted him on how he wanted his house and workshop to be rebuilt, Cade merely told him two simple things: make the workshop larger than the house and the new garage twice that size.

It was done just as he said and now it served as the official home base of four Autobots with enough room to store weapons and equipment, as well as retaining space for another two or three more of their kind. He honestly didn't believe they could pull it off, but he guessed Joshua had helped with the design since the building was more than half as large as an aircraft hangar. It was so huge that if Optimus were here - who was easily the tallest mech in the group - his massive size would not even make the garage crowded if all of them were to stand inside, unlike his old shed where the Prime transformed in front of him for the first time. It was definitely an upgrade from the previous building, and if there's one good thing his old house's destruction had given him, it had to be this.

Incidentally, this was also where he found himself explaining the story behind the CIA's visit, walking along the metal catwalks elevated in the air to match the height of the mechs. This was so anyone could see them eye-to-optic without having to crane their head up just to look at them. Seriously, he had almost developed neck problems back when the garage was still under construction.

"Please tell me that was a joke," Crosshairs said after an entire minute of silence following the end of Cade's story.

There was a mixed reaction from the Autobots, surprising the inventor since he thought they would instantly refuse. Crosshairs looked pissed, scowling and pacing around. Hound was disgruntled and chomping a bullet with a frown. Bumblebee seemed thoughtful, but if the stiffness in his body language was anything to judge by, he was just as uncomfortable with the offer. Meanwhile, Drift simply stood in silence near the corner, arms crossed as he leaned on the wall while listening calmly to the conversation. Although knowing the former Decepticon, the samurai was probably analyzing the story itself for any sign of deceit.

Still, it was a better response than what Cade had initially hoped for. Fortunately, he had not shown them an image of the relic yet. And he still had a high chance of convincing them to have a look at it.

"Cade, when Optimus left he told us to protect you and your family. Not everybody," Hound grunted.

"Hound is right," Crosshairs agreed, he crossed his arms in annoyance "Besides, how can we even know if they are telling the truth?"

Cade nodded. "Brains." He looked at the drone. Sitting beside a bank of computers, the former Decepticon grunted in reply and inserted a compact disc in the driver before punching a series of commands on the keyboard. Immediately, the huge monitor taking up a quarter of the right wall came to life, displaying a copy of one of the photos he had received from Fowler.

The response from the bots was almost instantaneous.

"What the hell..." Hound's optics widened. From behind him, even Crosshairs was stunned and Drift actually left his spot to take a closer look.

Cade didn't need to read their minds in order to know what they were thinking; it was already evident from their expressions. Much like him, they were immediately captivated and intrigued by the relic. There was just something about it that, even though it was just a picture, made it seem divine and sacred - as if it was created not by mere organic hands or machines but those of a god.

"That's why they want our help," Cade explained as the four Autobots gathered around the monitor. "Because they think this thing belongs to your race."

"But what is it?" Crosshairs asked and frowned as he sifted through his database for any matches regarding the spherical object. "I've never seen anything like it."

Cade blinked in surprise. "You don't know?"

"I was once a thief, Cade," the paratrooper shook his head. "But I'm sure as hell I haven't encountered that Sphere in all my life. Not even in all the historical records I've come across." He turned to Drift. "How about you?"

Drift shook his head as well. "I'm afraid I have no knowledge as to what that is either." Then he paused as he inspected the picture more closely. "But based on the Ancient Cybertronian glyphs engraved around the surface, it seems to date back even before the Great War."

That made all of them silent. If it was an old relic predating the civil war on Cybertron, they had little to no chance of knowing what it was. The conflict had spanned several dozens of millennia, and none of them had ever lived that long - not even Hound who was the oldest of the group aside from Optimus. Neither could they ask help from one of the Seekers since they were all but dead on the planet and without the AllSpark there was no way to revive them anyway.

"It's definitely an old relic," Crosshairs decided when no one spoke. "But we can't be sure unless we decipher the symbols first. It obviously has a meaning."

"Agreed," Drift nodded. "And we must first see it personally to be certain." Then the samurai looked down at the inventor. "Cade, did they tell you where it was being kept?"

"No," he shook his head. "They only said it was placed in a facility. But they didn't tell me the exact location."

"Typical," Hound muttered.

"Think this is a trap?" Crosshairs glanced at him. It was likely considering humanity's track record of being jackass backstabbers, and the paratrooper had his fair share of betrayals in his five thousand plus years of existence.

"If it is, then they did a damn good job of recreating a genuine relic of ours," the veteran answered with a grunt.

No one spoke to counter that statement. Though they all had doubts about the government's motives, they knew for certain that humans couldn't build a likeness of one of their relics if the Autobots themselves had no knowledge of it. The idea was just absurd, much more than the fact that the Earth was starting to become a treasure trove for lost Cybertronian artifacts. If not for their situation, they would have laughed at how relics were turning up every several years. It was as if someone was manipulating the events so they would find something from their past when they had settled down after an era of hardships. It was during these moments that they often wondered if Primus was playing a joke on them, and whether or not he wanted them to suffer for his own amusement.

And so the silence deepened. It was at this time, however, when all of them were lost as to what to do and no one was able to come up with a good idea that loud sirens suddenly blared around the property. The ear-splitting sound engulfed the garage like the cries of banshees, drowning out all others and disrupting the quietness that had just been prevalent not a minute ago.

In an instance, everyone snapped to attention and looked around in shock. The warning horns' wailings were triggered by their perimeter energon detectors, and that could only mean one thing: an unregistered Cybertronian had just entered the area.

"Shit!" The inventor quickly rushed to the security section of the garage. The cameras outside should give them an idea of the intruder's identity, but that was just a small part of his main concern. He was more focused on learning how they had been infiltrated with ease; aside from the detectors scattered throughout the area, there were dampeners masking the Autobots' signatures from the outside. It should be next to impossible for another Cybertronian to pinpoint their location unless they knew exactly where to look.

"Who could that be?" Hound growled as he swiftly drew a shotgun from his back and another blaster from his waist, the others mirroring his movements and taking out their own weapons. Optimus was out of the question and all the other Autobots were already dead. Decepticons were likely, but they hadn't sensed anything unusual during their recon.

Cade didn't respond for a minute. He was too busy staring at the screen with a look of confusion etched upon his face. Because parked just outside the front lawn, were a pair of cars that looked unfit to be together; a heavily modified red 1970 Dodge Challenger and a black-and-white police cruiser. They were sitting side-by-side facing the camera, seemingly staring at their direction in utter silence. It was unsettling, but the inventor didn't doubt for a second that they were Cybertronians - the sensors recognized them as such. However, identifying their faction was going to be the problem; unless someone went outside to confront them, which would be quite dangerous if they proved to be hostile, they had no way of confirming their allegiance.

And then the Dodge Challenger inched forward very slowly as if to show something. In an instant, all traces of doubt vanished from his mind. And with trembling fingers, Cade replaced the Sphere's photo on the main monitor with a close-up shot of the car's front fender and the crimson symbol displayed proudly on its metal surface.

An Autobot insignia.

* * *

**Welcome readers, both old and new, to the revised edition of my TF fanfic. :)**

**As you can see, this story has a new title, new format, expanded scenes, and longer than its predecessor. But still keeping the same plot and premise. I decided to make a major overhaul because the narrative I have planned no longer fits the previous incarnation, especially the earlier chapters. Hence, that's why the prologue is more detailed and expanded with additional scenes. :)**

**Now for the story itself, it will generally follow the same direction as the last one though with some changes in the events, especially during the Kremlin Infiltration part. I honestly felt I dragged it a bit, so I'm going for a more streamlined one. There will be new scenes included, however, and some will be altered to make it better. One reason is due to Drift having his own subplot and character arc this time along with Prowl. And I have to expand their relationship and interaction very early.**

**With that said, this may or may not incorporate plot elements from the upcoming TF5, though I'm not lying if I say that the entire outline for this fic was finished WAY before they start releasing all those plot rumors. So any similarities you might see are purely coincidence. :)**

**However, and this I'm going to say again for all reader's benefit, I will incorporate many elements from previous TF series. Most notably, as was seen in the prologue, from Aligned continuity, though I plan to include some from the Unicron trilogy and the original G1 cartoon. All the characters that has appeared thus far prior to the rewrite will still be included, but with minor alterations to their introductions.**

**Also, with the exception of Optimus and his Pathetic Dirty Foursome, all Transformers will now feature the modern version of their TV series counterpart's vehicle modes. So watch out for those. :)**

**Well, that's it. The original version of this fic numbered 96k+ words with 23 chapters. This one is already 1/3 of that in just TWO chapters. Hopefully, it should only take 10 more before we catch up to where we left off in the story. Andthis time, it will be much better. :D**

**Many thanks for my first beta! :)**

**Please Read &amp; Review! Constructive criticism is definitely what I need now that I'm getting serious to the story. So give me all you've got!**

**Until next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Betareader: **_DevlinGrace_

Chapter 2

A ghost had returned to haunt him.

Maybe not in a literal sense, yet Drift couldn't help but feel that way when he saw the image on the monitor. The police cruiser parked outside bore an eerie similarity to _him_ that he couldn't consider it a mere coincidence; its paint job was the same white against black as _him_. Its design, though of the Earth variety, was just as sleek and streamlined as _his_. Even the Energon signature was the same. It matched with the one he had detected earlier in Houston.

There was no other explanation for this—it had to be him. It was definitely him. He had returned to haunt him. A ghost from his past had come back to make him pay for his sins.

Why was he here? What was he doing here? How did he know where he was?

Before he knew it, he was already barreling outside, ignoring the shouts of protest from his comrades. He trembled all over, and despite the stifling heat, his spark was suddenly gripped with the icy fingers of dread. He wanted to make sure of the intruder's identity but didn't want to at the same time. He was afraid of how they both would react at their reunion. He feared how he would feel seeing him after their last fateful meeting.

He feared his past and how it could torment him.

Drift wanted to forget them, bury them deep in his memory, erase them completely from his spark. The Energon on his hands, the sensation of losing someone he had cherished, the betrayed gaze of a dear friend which almost killed him from the inside. He wanted to forget them all. He was a changed mech; he was no longer the monster that he had been before.

And yet here _he_ was, suddenly reminding him of all those which he had tried hard to forget. It seemed cruel that he wished to atone for his sins only for someone to remind him of his transgressions. It was like a huge slap to his face. Why? Why couldn't he rest? Why must fate always intervene in his journey for redemption and make him go back? Were his sins truly unforgivable?

Was he truly unforgivable?

He stopped just outside the garage, clenching and unclenching his fists as he stared past the red vehicle and the black-and-white Dodge Charger Pursuit just a little way behind them. The others soon followed him, but he didn't pay them any attention. For Drift, many things didn't matter anymore, and the only one that did was the ghost in front of him.

"The next time you do that, I'll make sure you stay outside and never let you in," Hound snapped to his right and then sent a glare at the intruders.

"Alright, you two! Identify yourselves or else I'll put a damn bullet in your asses before you guys can even transform," Hound growled and pointed his shotgun threateningly at the two vehicles.

For a moment, everything was still with the only sound the rustle of grass as a gentle breeze blew. If only a Cybertronian had organic lungs, Drift would be holding his breath now, his spark pulsing rapidly in anticipation. He stood as rigid as a statue, unable to find the strength to move, nor the voice to speak. Crosshairs muttered something to him, but he hadn't properly heard it due to his attention being solely fixed on the police cruiser.

"Please don't be him... Please don't be him... Please don't be him..." he thought.

Drift repeated those lines in his processors like a mantra, even though he already knew how terribly right his suspicion was. There could be no mistake as to who was in front of him; he knew him all to well not to recognize him by presence alone.

The crimson vehicle briefly lurched forward a bit before stopping. And then its frame shuddered as it began its transformation sequence, slowly rising up to form a mech as tall as Bumblebee only with yellow horns sticking out of his head.

"Is that how you treat old friends in your group?" he asked with a smirk.

Everyone's optics and eyes widened in shock except Hound who immediately broke into a grin. "Well, I'll be damned!" The commando quickly lowered his weapon. "Cliffjumper!"

"The one and only!" The newly arrived Autobot said with a mock bow.

The rest of the introduction was lost to Drift, however, as the police cruiser chose that moment to approach and stopped beside Cliffjumper. His spark throbbing even faster, he watched as the vehicle transformed as well. Powerful lean arms emerged from the side to push its body up, the front forming an armored torso. The doors slid behind toward the back, spreading wide open like miniature wings. The mech rose to its height, and bright blue optics brimming with intelligence immediately locked his gaze with him.

"We meet again, old friend," the mech greeted with a short nod.

Everything hit Drift in an instant, his fears and doubts flooding his spark like water breaking from a dam. All those memories of standing in a mountain of corpses, of wading in a pool of Energon, of kneeling beside someone who was like a father as he mourned his death. It all returned to him, overwhelming him and almost sapping the strength from his legs. He tried to speak, to acknowledge his old friend, but all that escaped him was a sound barely above a whisper.

"...Prowl?"

* * *

Another day of his lonely journey and another day of fruitless searching.

How long had it been since he had sent back a response? Days? A week? A month? Optimus didn't know anymore. Ever since he had arrived on this planet, all he had been doing was travel endlessly, only stopping in the dead of night for a couple hours of rest before resuming his journey. It was a never-ending cycle and every day seemed like an eternity to him; the land remained unchanged no matter how far he traveled, a barren landscape whose end was nowhere in sight. It was starting to tax both his spark and body, and there were times when he almost wanted to give up the search.

But he didn't. Instead remaining steadfast in his resolve to find the source of the signal. It was the only thing that kept him moving, that made him continue this seemingly futile action of his. A fixed point from which he could anchor a small glimmer of hope he had that there were still others of his race that had survived the Great Exodus. It was very much like the situation with the AllSpark, and like it, he knew that he would eventually find what he was looking for no matter how long it took him.

He drove ceaselessly throughout the day, occasionally replaying the distress message if only to reassure himself that he had heard the sender's voice clearly, as well as to discern any other clues from the background noises. Though it was choppy and garbled, he thought he had caught the sound of explosions amidst all the static. It was something that troubled him greatly. If it was the sound of battle, then he must hurry and reach the sender's location as soon as possible; a lot could have happened within the two months he had been searching.

Optimus suddenly felt the land begin to change around him, growing more arid as he proceeded. In the distance he glimpsed what seemed to be a series of large trenches dug deep into the ground. But as he zoomed in with his camera to take a closer look, he soon realized they were not just trenches but wide river beds devoid of water, creating a canyon like the ones found on Earth and Mars.

He slowed down a bit, treading carefully in case he was driving on top of a cliff, and soon found himself on the edge of one. With a shudder, he transformed, rising to his full height and surveying the land that spread below him.

The main channel seemed to be several miles ahead still, originating from the southeast and snaking its way to the west, disappearing into the horizon. The cliff he was standing on was just part of an offshoot tributary, and the drop was a couple of thousand feet deep, but there were places in the canyon much deeper than that. Caves and alcoves lined the base, and several rocky pillars protruded upwards like jagged teeth. Meanwhile, the sun's rays gave the soil a slightly bright orange hue, making it seem like the land was on fire.

The view somehow reminded Optimus of Earth, particularly the Grand Canyon, and he felt a pang of longing in his spark. No matter how much he may have hated the humans in the past, and indeed there was still a small amount of lingering resentment to most of their kind, he couldn't say the same for the planet. It was the only place other than Cybertron that he considered home. Peaceful, majestic, the azure planet was much like his home world, at least before war broke out to ravage the land. And even then, its beauty couldn't be denied—like a sparkling sapphire in the middle of a vast ocean of darkness that needs to be protected.

Shaking his head, Optimus let out a short sigh before activating his sensors, scanning the area for any signs of life. It seemed hopeless considering the state of the land; no one could live here, and even if there was, not for long. This world was unfit to sustain organic living things, although that's not what he was really searching for. Rather, he was looking for traces of Energon signatures. Anything that might shed some light on the source of the distress message.

He found none, sadly. Either he was still too far to detect them, or there was nothing for him to find. Two months seemed like a long time for a search, and he should have already come upon something. Perhaps, he had been looking on the wrong planet, even though he was certain that the signal originated here. Or maybe the sender had already left and he had simply arrived too late.

Optimus glanced at the sky. He had calibrated his internal clock to match the fast rotation of this planet, and he discovered it was almost noon. He only had a few hours left before night fell, journeying in the darkness once more. Not for the first time he wished that a satellite was orbiting so he could use his GPS function, but he didn't have that luxury at the moment. The only things he could rely on was his own sense of direction and the map he had been painstakingly creating as he covered more distances—two months of travel, and it seemed he had barely covered a fourth of a continent.

He turned around after casting one final glance at the canyon, preparing for another long trip. It would have been easier if he could simply fly, but that would consume a lot of his Energon reserves. And he needed what little he had to continue his search for the mysterious Creators, as well as his eventual return to Earth should he succeed. If he spent his supplies now, he might be stranded on this planet.

The Prime crouched on one knee and activated his transformation sequence. He couldn't stay here for long, and if he didn't find any clues regarding the source of that signal within the next three days, he would have to leave. There was no point in looking for something that might not even exist and his time should be best spent on more important matters.

Just as he was about to take flight, he heard them.

It was barely noticeable at first, and he simply thought it was the ground cracking under his weight—he was heavy, and the soil was weak from the lack of proper nutrients. But as he strained his audio receptors, the noises became significantly louder; a booming sound increasing in volume and frequency, like explosions happening in quick succession.

Explosions... barrages... a battle!

His optics widened, and he swiftly spun around and stood, surveying the horizon for any signs of smoke or even a flare... there! At the furthest point in the north, a pillar of black cloud rose like a signal.

Something was burning.

He quickly considered his options, but there were only two: circumvent the canyon, or fly straight to the source of the disturbance. The former would take time, something he didn't have a lot of. However, the latter would consume his fuels. And if it turned out to be a trap, he might not have enough Energon left to escape.

Optimus shook his head. This was not the time for indecision. If there were Autobots out there, he had to lend his strength and guidance as soon as he could. They may even be the very ones who had sent the message, and if they were, then all the more reason to reach them as soon as possible.

Having decided at last, he narrowed his optics and fixed them toward the distance before leaping down from the edge of the cliff and activating his leg thrusters, shooting forward as fast as he could into the horizon.

* * *

When Drift rushed outside the garage after he saw the unidentified Autobots on the monitor, Cade already had the suspicion that he knew one, or both, of those two. It was the only explanation for the former Decepticon's agitated look, and the way he immediately threw caution to the wind; it was not like him to charge at possible hostiles alone, though he was prone to violent outbursts when startled. He was the most cautious among the quartet, always making sure they don't go against an enemy without a plan. His actions, however, were contradictory to that.

"Drift, wait!"

Cade called after him, but the samurai was already outside. Glancing at the others, he saw hesitation briefly flashed across their faces before Hound muttered a curse and finally sprinted after the Autobot.

"If this turns out to be a trap, I'm going to shove a grenade down his throat," the commando scowled while holding onto his weapon tightly with Crosshairs and Bumblebee following. For a moment, Cade considered staying in the garage, only to decide against it. He may be just a human, but he could still hold his own. And if the intruders were really Decepticons in disguise, he would have a chance to test Que's improved weapons on them.

"Stay here, you two!" he shouted at Wheelie and Brains as he swiftly clambered down the catwalk's stairs, taking two steps at a time before finally reaching the base and grabbing a handful of boomsticks on a nearby table.

When they got outside they found Drift standing still with an apprehensive expression. His fists were clenched tight, posture stiff and rigid, and his haunted gaze was seemingly fixed at the police cruiser behind the red Dodge Challenger. It was clear to everyone that Drift knew one of the Autobots, and he was somehow afraid of him.

"The next time you do that, I'll make sure you stay outside and never let you in," Hound snapped. However, Drift didn't answer and kept his attention focused ahead.

Cade followed his gaze. The unregistered intruders hadn't made a move yet. It was as if they were waiting for all of them to go outside, though how these two knew there were six Autobots in this area was anyone's guess; they had the government purged all traces of their location from Pentagon's servers, not to mention the files CIA had kept were personally burned by Hound. The Autobots had also locked their homing beacons to prevent any of their kind from locating them. The chances of others finding them was very slim.

So, who were these guys? They didn't look to be Decepticons, although a simple Autobot insignia was not a good way to determine the faction; Sentinel Prime was an Autobot too, but he sided with Megatron. If they were enemies, however, they wouldn't have announced their presence and just simply attack without warning. It was likely they were unsure of Hound and the others, but if they were, they should have make themselves known first nonetheless.

"Alright, you two! Identify yourselves or else I'll put a damn bullet in your asses before you guys can even transform," Hound growled at the two Cybertronians, aiming his shotgun on the red one.

When only silence met them, Cade took the opportunity to look around. Bumblebee stood to the left just a few meters away from Drift, combat visor down and plasma cannon primed, ready to blast one of the intruders should they prove to be hostile. Beside Hound was Crosshairs, his fingers resting on the triggers of his dual submachine guns. Meanwhile, the inventor stood a little behind Hound's right foot, grasping a boomstick in each hand.

The only mech whose weapons were not drawn was Drift, which piqued Cade's curiosity even more. The samurai was seemingly certain of the intruder's identities to the point that he didn't had to be on guard, though that didn't explain why he looked like as if he had just seen a ghost. Just what was his relationship with them that he immediately rushed outside, throwing out the calm demeanor he was known for and replacing it with one of dread?

Another tense minute passed with no response, and Cade was beginning to wonder if he should walk up to them when suddenly the red Dodge Challenger inched forward and with a shudder began to transform. Metal plates retracted as a pair of armored arms and legs emerged from its sides, the hood flipped down and became a chest armor, while a head topped with yellow horns popped out. As it rose, bright blue optics stared warily at Hound's weapon, and a wide smirk adorned its seemingly youthful face as he greeted them.

"Is that how you treat old friends in your group?"

For a moment, there was a short, stunned silence. And then Hound's optics along with Bumblebee and Crosshairs widened in recognition. Breaking into a full grin, the commando quickly lowered his weapon. "Well, I'll be damned! Cliffjumper!"

"The one and only!" The Autobot bowed.

As the others approached Cliffjumper to greet him, Cade took a thorough look at the Autobot. He had the same height as Bumblebee, though more heavily armored, especially around the upper body and shoulders. His torso was broad as well, and his arms were seemingly built to punch things with maximum damage in mind. The Autobot was probably quite nimble too, from what he could see on his legs; they were lightly protected, though strong enough to support the weight of his torso.

However, what the inventor found peculiar was the general design of Cliffjumper's entire frame. Except for several variations and the yellow horns on his head, the crimson Autobot bore many similarities with Bumblebee—from the shape of his head all the way to his slim endostructure. Their resemblance was not too much to make them seem like twins, but their overall appearances looked as if they were derived from the same base form. Of course, they were machines so it was likely that the two were related somehow. But if they did, it would be the first time he had encounter two mechs who shared the same lineage.

He knew the AllSpark was the primary of life for Cybertron, but he also knew that the inhabitants were capable of independent reproduction as well. Otherwise, they wouldn't have gender distinctions like femmes and mechs. However, they were not like humans in which fertilization of a woman's egg cell was required to create a new life. Rather, their reproduction was more complicated involving two parent units to be connected via capsules, and then selecting from their individual personalities and protocols and merging those to form a new personality, and thus, a new spark.

It was called Sparkbonding, and there were a lot of risks accompanying that method. Based on what he had learned from N.E.S.T.'s files and the occasional accounts from the Autobots themselves, it could only happen once every fifty years of a Cybertronian's life due to the stress it places on their spark. And there was no guarantee it would work, with only a twelve percent chance of success. That's why every sparkling was cherished, and one of the reasons they had always relied on the AllSpark.

Cade glanced at Bumblebee who was now sharing a fist-bump with Cliffjumper. He wondered if they were brothers, but then he remembered that the scout was an orphan. Which meant Cliffjumper was either someone who simply had the same basic frame design or a relative in some way.

"Nice to see you are still in good shape, cousin!" The red Autobot grinned at Bumblebee.

The inventor's eyebrows rose at that. So, it was true. They were indeed related, cousins even. It was actually surprising given that he didn't realize how Cybertronian society functioned quite like humans, and it just shows how much the two species had in common despite the differences in culture and origin.

The revelation made him curious, and he was about to ask Hound about Cliffjumper and Bumblebee when suddenly the police cruiser rolled towards the empty spot beside the red Autobot. In all honesty, he had almost forgotten about their other visitor and watched silently while it began to transform. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Drift becoming stiffer as the mech slowly rose, his expression growing more serious every time parts of the other Autobot emerged.

Cade was sure of it; the samurai knew this mech personally if his body language was anything to judge by. And as he finally stood to his full height, the second newly arrived Autobot turned to the former Decepticon and nodded coolly.

"We meet again, old friend."

There was another stunned silence, a longer one this time, and everyone except for Cade and Cliffjumper gaped at the mech. Drift struggled to find his voice, and when he spoke, it was barely audible even in the deafening silence.

"Prowl?"

The tension in the air rose, and Cade frowned when Hound and Crosshairs began to exchange nervous glances, subtly placing themselves in a position that blocked Drift's path, but not hindering his sight of Prowl. They seemed to be preventing the samurai from getting closer to Prowl, though why the two would do that escaped him. It was puzzling, and the inventor thought it strange.

What were the former Decepticon's relationship with the Autobot? It was likely they had met in battle many times considering their respective factions, but that didn't explain why Prowl greeted Drift like they knew each other beyond the usual relationship of former enemies. It seemed as if their history went beyond that, and Cade was beginning to grow more curious. Despite the rather polite greeting, Prowl's hardened expression and rigid posture suggested that he was not pleased to see the samurai.

But why would that be?

"It's been a while," said the mech.

For a moment Drift scanned Prowl, taking every detail of him. "Yes... yes, it has," he murmured.

"You look well," Prowl observed. Then he narrowed his optics slightly. "Are you still going by that name? Or should I call you by a different one now?"

If a Cybertronian could turn pale, Cade was certain the samurai would be looking like that already. Prowl's question seemingly had an effect on him from the way he stood a little more rigid and tense. Drift had another name, but what could that be? And why was he acting as if he feared it greatly?

There was a slight hesitation from the former Decepticon. Shifting uneasily on his feet, Drift clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Drift," he spoke at last, though with great difficulty. "I go by that name now."

Prowl was silent for a while, gazing at him with an unreadable expression. "'Drift'," the mech repeated in a soft voice. "I see."

He soon turned away without a word, fixing his attention on the other Autobots and leaving Drift dejected. The mech acknowledged Crosshairs with a curt nod, and the paratrooper scowled in annoyance. His optics briefly lingered on Bumblebee before finally landing on Hound.

"Good to see you, Sergeant Hound."

"Drop the formalities, Prowl," the commando grunted. "We're no longer an army."

"Of course," the mech looked around at the property. "I trust you have all been doing well?"

"We are still in one piece as you can see," Crosshairs answered the question with a roll of his optics.

Prowl glanced at the paratrooper, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly at the response. "You're still as rude as ever."

"And you're still a stiff, overbearing mech," the other Autobot retorted with a scowl. Then he frowned. "So what are you two doing here? I don't think you're both on a vacation right now."

There was a moment of silence, and everyone had their attention on Prowl, waiting for his answer. It was unlikely that these two had arrived on Earth by accident; they had to have a purpose, something that required them to immediately track down their location. But what could it be? Moreover, just how important was it that Prowl and Cliffjumper had to travel to the planet of a race that almost killed their leader?

When Prowl still refused to respond, Hound shifted his right leg and tapped his foot in impatience, unintentionally offering Cade a better view of the mech standing a little way ahead. The Autobot's expression was hard to read, but it was obvious he was thoroughly thinking about his answer. Which made him wonder why it was that Prowl was taking a little too long to speak. Even Cliffjumper was silent, staring at his companion expectantly.

The inventor scanned the Autobot's face for anything that might give him a clue of the reason they were here. However, he could not glean a single thing from Prowl's inscrutable mask. And it was at that moment, when he was gazing at him intently from behind one of Hound's legs, though he had the nagging feeling that Prowl knew all along, that their eyes and optics met.

"Cade Yeager, I presume."

The intensity of his gaze as well as the way he uttered his name made the inventor freeze right on the spot. It was like being scrutinized under a microscope, and for the first time since meeting Optimus, he felt awkward and small standing next to these sentient mechanical race. There was just something about Prowl that none of the others had, and the feeling somewhat unsettled him.

But more than that, he was shocked from hearing the mech call him by his name. As far as he knew, only the Autobots residing at his house had knowledge of that; there's just no way Prowl could have learned it. And even if he had hacked the government for the information, someone from the Pentagon would have warned them in advance if a Cybertronian was snooping around. So, unless someone told Prowl about him, which was impossible unless he met a certain Prime and...

Wait.

Cade's eyes widened in shock, and judging by the collective gasp from the others, he was certain they had reached the same conclusion as he did just as quickly.

"You saw him."

It was not a question. Because that's the only explanation how Prowl had recognized him despite this being their first meeting; he and Cliffjumper had seen Optimus on their way to Earth.

"Correct," Prowl confirmed.

"Optimus? You saw him?!" Hound almost shouted. "Where? When? For the love of Primus, Prowl, you have to tell us now!"

"Whoa! Relax there, buddy!" Cliffjumper chuckled nervously as he tried to make the veteran calm down. "No need to shout."

Cade couldn't blame the mech. It's been a year since they last saw Optimus, and not once did he send a message. He didn't even tell them where he might be or whether he had finally located the "Creators". All they knew was it would be a long time still before Optimus could return from his voyage.

They were worried about him—worried and concerned. He had not fully recovered from his injuries by the time he had flown into space, and with the price on his head, other bounty hunters would certainly pursue him; they would take advantage of his weakened state to capture him and take him to the Creators.

"Pluto, not seven months ago," answered Prowl immediately.

Cade closed his eyes and released a sigh of relief. Seven months ago. That meant Optimus was able to journey that far without suffering from his wounds. He was honestly worried to death about the Prime's condition before he left, even though he had not shown any sign of pain and discomfort. However, being the one who had gave the Autobot leader emergency repairs, he knew if he was simply hiding it. But from what Prowl had just revealed, he was glad that his fears were baseless and Optimus was safe.

"Did he say anything?" Hound pressed on for more information.

"A lot, actually," the mech nodded. "He told me everything... especially about you, Cade Yeager."

The inventor snapped his eyes open at that, and he soon found himself staring directly at the Autobot's optics once more. They were now filled with curiosity, inspecting him under a penetrating gaze; almost as if sizing him up.

"About me, huh?" Cade muttered.

"I heard you were quite the person," the mech started to approach. "He said you were the only human who had shown him kindness when all others had abandoned him."

He now towered over him, looking down with a gleam in his optics. Glancing up at Prowl, he was probably the tallest Autobot Cade had seen barring Optimus himself—he even passed Crosshairs' height.

"He told you that?" Cade asked softly. He was honored that Optimus had said that about him, and to another of his race no less. He never thought the Prime would think highly of him considering they barely knew each other, but he guessed his actions had given the Autobot a valid reason to do so.

"Yes, and much more," Prowl nodded before glancing at the garage behind Cade. "But I'm afraid this is not the right place for such conversations. So if you have somewhere else where we could all talk nicely, we will gladly appreciate it if you could lead us there."

The inventor had already expected that and he managed a small smile. Good thing he had the garage to be constructed large enough for incidents like this. It should be able to hold all of them inside without much problem.

Gesturing behind him, Cade nodded.

"Follow me."

* * *

The dry wind brushed against his frame but Optimus payed no attention to it. His entire focus was on the column of black smoke rising like a dark tower on the horizon.

The sound of explosions had gotten much louder and more frequent during the last half hour, and as he steadily neared the source, he could already catch a glimpse of blinding orange flashes indicating artillery barrages; whoever was attacking had brought a lot of firepower. To whom they were using it for, or on, he had no idea. But he had the sinking feeling that those on the receiving end of the firestorm would not last much longer.

Though he was flying a little close to the ground, he was confident he could dodge any shots from anti-air cannons. He just wanted to make sure he could pick out the attackers from the defenders, something he would not be able to do if he was higher in the sky. Plus, an increase in altitude would burn more Energon, so he needed to be lower to conserve what remained of his supplies.

As he continued his path, he wondered briefly if the sender was part of the beleaguered force, and if he was already dead. However, he soon purged the idea out of his processors; if his intuition was correct and it was indeed Ultra Magnus, there's absolutely no way he could have perished on the battlefield. He only suffered a defeat thrice, which were all due to spies in his ranks. And if the information he had acquired from Prowl and Cliffjumper was true, the Autobot City Commander should have a hundred troops under his command.

Of course, there was another reason why he was fervently hoping to Primus that his friend, and any force he may have, had survived. If there were femmes in Magnus' platoon, their race might still have a chance. He knew the risk though, and even if they did manage to reproduce, the only remaining problem would be finding a new home; with Cybertron destroyed, they had nowhere else to go... except for Earth.

Optimus shook his head. One obstacle at a time. They would cross that bridge if and when they got there. For now, he had to find them first, and fast.

Increasing his speed, he angled his flight direction a bit upward to facilitate a better view of his surroundings. Looming ahead was a low hill, and once he passed that, he could finally see the battle. He was close now, and he could hear shouts and roars intermixed with the booming noise of artillery shells impacting against the hard ground.

Optimus suddenly frowned. He could not understand most of the words even with his acute hearing, but he thought he recognized one of the louder voices barking what seemed to be orders. It troubled him greatly, and he hoped to Primus he was wrong. Because if it was indeed who he thought it was, things would just get more difficult once he arrived.

Which meant he had to reach the battlefield quickly.

Hopefully, he would find survivors.

* * *

"Before I begin, please allow me to properly introduce myself first, Cade Yeager."

They were all gathered inside the spacious garage. After a brief introduction of Wheelie and Brains, who initially made Prowl suspicious, the Autobots settled themselves around the mech. Some were standing with their arms crossed, others were content with leaning on the wall, and in the case of Cade, the railings of the walkways.

All their eyes and optics were fixed at Prowl's towering form. He was so tall that his optics were level with Cade standing on the catwalks—twenty-seven feet above the floor.

"My name is Prowl, Chief Autobot Strategist, and Second-In-Command to Optimus Prime," the mech inclined his head.

Cade was surprised. He glanced at the others and saw their nods of confirmation. "You mean they were all once under your command?" he raised an eyebrow.

It was a shock to him that Prowl could manage their different personalities and attitudes without going mad. Optimus certainly never did, but during their time together he realized that even though the Autobots respected the Prime and were loyal to him, there were cases when the last scion of Primus could not prevent petty fights from breaking out, especially between Drift and Bumblebee.

"At one point, yes they were," Prowl briefly glanced over his shoulders at Drift. "But not all of them."

Cade nodded. "So why are you here?" he asked.

Prowl looked at Cliffjumper, who gave him a thumbs up. With a nod, Prowl said, "To better understand our mission, I must tell you first of our journey after we left Cybertron."

Thus, the tactician began his tale of what happened to the Autobots after the Great Exodus. He told them the flight of the warship Orion, helmed by none other than Ultra Magnus, a renowned commander and fearsome warrior. For hundreds of years they traveled the stars searching for the AllSpark while evading their pursuers.

It was an interesting story and Cade was fascinated as Prowl recounted many events involving intergalactic chases, spaces pirates, and strange alien planets. The Autobots moved from one place to another, never staying in one location for too long.

"We lost many of our comrades," Prowl shook his head. "What was once a crew of two hundred became a hundred and fifty, then a hundred, until just two decades ago. It was fifty when we left."

Then he told them of their encounter with Optimus. The Autobot leader was at full strength when Prowl and Cliffjumper met him, albeit worn out from the constant travel in space. Though the rendezvous was brief, the tactician was given enough information to track them down as well as remain safe from the humans.

Of his mission to find the Creators, Optimus didn't say much to Prowl. All the mech could piece together from Prime were the general direction he was journeying and his desire to find them quickly. After the short meeting, he resumed his travel with great haste, but not before telling Prowl to take command of the Earth-bound Autobots in his absence as well as giving his regards to Cade.

"He holds you in high esteem, Cade Yeager," Prowl said. "Only a few individuals from other races received such praises from him. You are very fortunate to be included to those select few."

The inventor bowed his head and smiled faintly. He was honored that Optimus considered him as such. Though they had only known each other for a brief period, most of which was spent running away from the government, he had immediately felt a kindred spirit with the mech. Partly because their situation at that time was exactly the same, but more than that it was because he knew what it was to lose faith in someone.

He did that briefly to himself, after his wife had died.

He looked up at Prowl and saw him observing silently. Returning his gaze, he asked once more the question that the tactician had not answered yet.

"Why are you here then?"

For a moment Prowl was silent. He closed his optics, while everyone stared at him expectantly. When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was slow and careful.

"Twenty years, seven months, eleven days, three hours and twelve minutes ago, we landed on a small barren world after suffering some damage from an asteroid field. While repairing the Orion, Ultra Magnus ordered a regular recon of the surrounding area. During our first day, I set out with Cliffjumper and Smokescreen, one of our scouts, to survey the perimeter."

He opened his optics and stared at Cade. "Not an hour after we left the camp, we came upon an old ship half-buried in the ground." His optics flickered and a holographic image materialized in front of them.

It was that of a crashed spacecraft, its front half hidden beneath the reddish earth. Most of its rear thrusters were riddled with large holes, and a stabilizer wing was missing. There was no mark on the hull indicating to whom it belonged.

"We searched for any signs of survivors once we entered it," Prowl continued. "But we soon realized that the ship was so old there would be no one left inside. So, we continued on our way until we came upon the bridge."

The hologram shimmered and was replaced with a floating image of a room filled with monitors and modules. "As we tried to gain access to the ship's system, I discovered a datapad containing a strange file."

Prowl shifted to another image, this one a sheet of blue filled with nothing but Cybertronian glyphs—Ancient Cybertronian to be exact. "This is an encrypted file that Override had translated. It took him many hours, but we were finally able to understand its contents... and make a discovery."

A picture appeared next to the text, and everyone was shocked to see it was a golden Cybertron orbiting a star.

"From what we read, there are supposedly four Keys capable of unlocking a machine with the power to terraform a plant into something like Cybertron; a metal world just like ours," Prowl said. "And if it could transform, certainly it could restore. So, after a brief meeting, we decided to search for it. I was chosen to lead this mission, with Cliffjumper as my partner," he gestured at the red Autobot.

There was a moment of silence. Even Cade couldn't believe it. There was a way to revive Cybertron? The idea seemed absurd and impossible.

"How can you be sure this datapad is to be trusted?" Hound asked skeptically.

"Because I've seen a picture of the artifact itself," Prowl replied with a faint smile. The hologram shimmered again, revealing a floating image of a very familiar relic that made everyone gasped in shock and disbelief.

It was the Sphere.

* * *

**This chapter was supposed to have been posted two months ago. Unfortunately, my beta encountered problems IRL, and I had to wait for him to proofread this.**

**He still had not replied when I PM'ed him 3 days ago despite his promise of finishing this last month.**

**That's why I decided after much deliberation to just post this. It's been almost 6 months, and I know many of you were waiting for another update. So here it is. :)**

**I HAVE A MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT. This story will undergo massive plot changes starting next chapter. I felt like the previous one was lacking in many places, and from the first outline I had wrote, it would have been convoluted and the story will drag. So I decided to revise the entire story. One big change is the main POV, which will no longer be Cade Yeager, but Prowl. This is to give him a much bigger role, as well as expand his character and have him get his own character arc. In simple words, he will be one of the MAIN protagonist of this story, along with Drift as their arcs are intertwined, and Optimus, of course, with the rest being reduced to supporting roles.**

**Of course, the others will still have their own POV chapters, especially Crosshairs and Cade, just not as often.**

**Having said that, I will still keep the dual plot of this fanfic; one for Prime's journey in space, and the other for Prowl's journey on Earth. However, I will entirely remove one of the subplots from the initial story, and will just retain the other one with major revisions. Which subplot will that be is better left as a surprise. :)**

**In addition to that, depending on the story, the standard word count for each chapter will be similar to this update. That would be 5k-6k words, excluding Author's Notes. Shorter than the first two chapters, I know, but I'm trying to make this fanfic more streamlined and less bulky in terms of wall of texts. This is also a way to increase my update speed, and as such, this will become the standard for all of my stories, current and upcoming.**

**Well, that's it. Hope you like this early Christmas present! This will be my last update of this story for this year.**

**Please Read &amp; Review! See you on 2017! :D**

**TRANSFORMERS: THE LAST KNIGHT WILL DEFINITELY ROCK!**

**12/27/16 UPDATE: Finally got the revised version from my betareader. Thanks a lot to DevlinGrace!**


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